#and haven't been able to study shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mingisaddctn · 9 months

Text

mind over matter | s.mg

Pairing: best friend!mingi x reader Genre: [+18] smut w/o plot Warnings: jussss smut, enjoy a/n: first fic on this blog yay

the two things you can be sure in life is that 1. you will die and 2. you've never wanted to suck a dick so bad.

I mean, you always knew that your best friend was hot — you had eyes, for god's sake! — but holy shit.

it started when you ran out of cat food. you were an attentive cat owner, don't get me wrong, but at the same time, you had the worst week for your mental state. exams after exams, studying 'till the library basically had to kick you out and group projects with lazy people... so that's how it ended up with your cat screaming at the top of their lungs and waking you up from your power nap.

mingi happened to be around because, guess what, you also forgot about your plans to watch that new anime that he rambled all about for the past month, and truly, you wanted to be able to enjoy some quality time with him, but you fell asleep as quick as his cursor pressed play on the screen, the warmth that irradiated from both inside his hoodie that you were wearing to where your head laid on his shoulder was too cozy.

so when you got up to feed the cat, your heart dropped, and you saw the grocery list accumulating dust on top of the counter, the 'cat food' underlined three times. you looked outside the windows of your small apartment and saw that the simple drizzle from before now turned into a full on storm, and all you could do was lean onto the counter and bawl your eyes out.

mingi was startled but tried to comfort you somehow, not really sure of what he could do to help, and as you tried to tell him between hiccups and tears, he quickly grabbed his jacket and told you that he would be right back.

twenty minutes later, a full-on drenched mingi stood on the doorstep, chest heaving as he took off his shoes and the same jacket, now in a darker tone from the wetness. you stared back from your couch, as you were curled into the throw blankets, eyes widened.

you almost forgot about the cat food.

in your defense, it should be illegal the way his white tee clung to his abs so sinfully highlighting each of his muscles. and when he rose his arms to take off his cap and ran his fingers between wet strands of hair that framed his cheekbones, your eyes fixated on the way his sweats clung onto dear life to his v-line.

holy fuck. jesus christ. oh my god. whatever divinity that was out there.

"you okay?" he asked, as if he was expecting your answer and you shook your head, trying to escape the trance you found yourself in.

"what? why?"

"i asked if i could use your shower" he placed the single bag with the cat food on the counter as he tried not to wet your floor.

you can use me, for sure; you thought to yourself.

"yeah, yeah, go ahead" you nodded and he took his shirt off on the way to the bathroom.

you quickly jumped from the couch to feed the cat — since that was the prime reason for all the ruckus. as you put the blocks of minced meat on the food bowl, you caught yourself fantasizing about it again.

how good he should be looking, as droplets of rain still lingered on his skin as he took of the sweatpants slowly, leaving only the boxers that perfectly held his firm thighs and secured his—

meow, you looked down, to find that a block of meat fell beside the bowl and you took a deep breath. control yourself.

you blamed the ovulation. or maybe the fact that you haven't been sexually active in a while. or that movie that had hot scenes with your favorite actor... gosh you were a horny mess.

but your life has basically been all about your studies lately, and the stress was clouding your reasoning, making you feel like impulsive decisions were now worth a lot, and that's how you found yourself standing outside your bathroom door, idly looking at it with your hand raised, on the way to give it a knock.

the thing is, the moment you found the courage to do it, the door opened from the inside, and only mingi's torso popped out, in the middle of calling your name, but now confused that you were on the other side.

all that led to the both of you sitting on the edge of your bed, with him only wearing a towel around his hips, not staring at each other as the silence overcame the storm from outside.

"so... you want to suck my dick...?" he simply repeated your words from minutes ago.

it would be comical if it wasn't so tragic.

"yes."

"are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"yes."

"'then... how should we do it?"

you took another sharp breath, your lungs almost failing you as your mind tried to disassociate from your body. leaving the bed to kneel in front of him, you kept your eyes focused on his face, his lips parted as his eyes were half-lidded. from all the years you'd known him, you knew that he was probably overthinking it and trying to figure out what was happening. but neither you could tell.

your fingers slid to the towel and as you were going to take it off, his hand flew to yours, holding it softly. he pulled you towards him in a swift movement and placed his palm on your cheek, nose now brushing against yours. soon after, you felt the plumpness of his lips onto yours.

"wait" he leaned back cautiously, as though any minor movement would startle you like a scared kitten. his eyes overthinking each and every detail. "I want to kiss you first."

and as if you were waiting for that to snap, you grabbed his neck and pulled his face lower so you could slide your tongue into his mouth. his big hands fell to your hips and grabbed firmly, decided not to let you run away.

you kinda wondered before how good of a kisser mingi was, your friends joked around saying that it must be good since he has fat lips, but you usually kept those thoughts at bay, not really wanting to dive into your hidden desires. it wasn't like you, to explore and try new things. you became friends a long time ago, and when he earned that title, you felt like it would be too messy to see him as anything else.

but you weren't dumb, of course you'd noticed how a blush crept to his cheeks whenever you grabbed one of his hoodies, or how he would stutter when others teased him about you. he wasn't good at hiding things, and you weren't good at ignoring them.

one of his hands snuck to your neck and the pulled you closer, his breathing growing heavier to the point that you could hear a faint groan from his throat.

shit, you moaned.

he let go of your face and you leaned back, a little ashamed of the noise that escaped you, but mingi didn't seem to mind, in fact, his cheeks could be mistaken to a tomato. he shifted in his place and you noticed the tent in his pants. oh.

placing a final kiss on his cheek, you maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself to your knees, hands falling to his covered member, feeling the warmth through the towel and earning a sharp gasp from him. licking your lips, you only broke the intense stare to undo the lousy knot, uncovering his lower body.

oh. OH.

how did he hide that monstrous thing all along?

"uh... pants, I guess..." he said almost in a whisper, and then you realized that you were thinking out loud.

"shit, I mean, it's not a bad thing" you placed your hand at the base of his cock, wrapping your palm around it and the boy hissed. "I just... didn't expect that."

"so you thought about it before?" touché. you deflected by giving him a slow tug.

before he could say anything else, you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around him.

"fffuck-" he let out, throwing his head back.

you started bobbing your head at a slower pace, quickening each time he groaned, and listened to his raspy moans as if they were songs hidden in heaven. his hand ran through your hair, pulling at the strands just light enough to make you whine, the vibrations helping into the pleasure.

"please—" he pled, eyes fixated on you and wet hair sticking to his face. he couldn't look any better, you noted.

mingi stared right into your soul with deep, dark eyes. his nose was flaring up and trying to keep up with the sharp breaths that left his parted mouth. it was as if he belonged in that position, and you wished that you had midas touch to keep him like that forever.

"so pretty" you said more to yourself than to him, and one of your fingers snuck into his mouth, and he wrapped those plump lips around it to suck.

feeling his tongue under your skin made shivers run down your spine, and even though you tried to take in more, he pulled you towards him once more, now landing you onto his lap. mind you, his naked lap. your pajama shorts did nothing to the mixture of pre-cum and saliva that rubbed under fabric. you hoped he couldn't feel the wetness that was forming between your legs.

kissing you again, you wondered how your teeth were not clashing at all from the desperation that exuded from both parts. you wanted him as much as he ever had wanted you, and it didn't seem like a real experience. the euphoria that overtook you made you feel almost dizzy from all the exchange in pheromones and fluids, holy fuck, you wanted to stay like that forever.

while he kissed you, mingi's hand went to the bottom of your shorts, holding you so you wouldn't fall as he took them off, leaving you in his hoodie and panties. you didn't remember what kind of underwear you wore, but you hoped to whatever god that was out there that it was something without a hole or anything.

without taking the panties off, he slid them to the side and ran both his middle and ring fingers along your folds, the new feeling making you jump a little, and he giggled. the motherfucker giggled.

"jeez... can't wait to be inside you" he said against your lips, hissing as you gave him an experimental roll of your hips.

holding your panties to the side, he grabbed his cock and aligned himself to your folds, placing the tip inside and a loud whimper fell from your mouth. you knew that it would take more effort to get him inside, he was the biggest you've ever been with, and mingi also seemed to notice that, so he touched you as if you were made of glass.

the warmth of his hot member now sheathing inside your pussy felt like too much, and the room felt foggy, just as your breaths. he kissed the side of your neck, licking up to your ear and groaning ever so slightly, as if he had noticed how much you reacted to those sounds, using them now against you.

the moment you reached the bottom, you felt as if your internal organs would combust. his dick felt like too much and too good, you drank from the sensations and the tingles that your body left each time he moved an inch, clenching around him. you reached your hands to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, but his hand left your lower back to stop yours.

"leave it on" he looked up at your face with puppy eyes. "I want to fuck you in my clothes."

OH. FUCK.

you moaned into his mouth and slowly started to move your hips. you could've cum just from his words, but you tried your best to concentrate in making him feel good.

"you feel so good around me" he whined, a short moan leaving his lips to meet yours again.

you didn't know how you looked at that moment, probably a mess. from taking in all the sensations, his huge cock and the way he looked like a whiny mess under you... you felt powerful, and he was letting you use him to your wishes.

"please, please" he whined even more, probably taking notes that you got off from that.

"what is it, big boy?" as soon as the words fell from your mouth, you questioned yourself. is this really me?

"let me fuck you right" his hips shot up, taking you by surprise with a gasp and he bit your collarbone. "I wanna be good for you- wanna make you feel good."

"use me however you want" you said in a desperate tone. not even minding how it looked to him, you truly wanted everything from him.

with one arm sneaking around your back and the other on your neck, he moved you further into the bed, now on top of you. he didn't say anything else, only left a small kiss on the corner of your mouth and gave you a slow thrust.

the most high pitched moan fell from your lips, and you didn't care to be embarrassed. not when he was pleading for you, having your body wrapped so deliciously around him, the same as his.

you could write paragraphs and paragraphs about the way he looked; the occasional lightnings shining against his wet skin, highlighting each of his curves and muscles while his hair fell above his forehead, now a mess from the way you rushed your fingers between strands.

mingi kept rolling his hips against yours, and words kept falling randomly from your mouth, meddling with moans and sobs, you felt so cockdrunk that even the slightest stimulation coming from him could make you shed tears. felt so fucking good that got you questioning every life choice you've ever made to this point, as if everything was a part of god's plan for you to end up right under your best friend, as his touches made love to your limbs.

"hm-ugh- feels so fucking- oh my god" you kept going on and on, not even sure yourself what you were saying, but mingi wasn't falling behind.

the knot had already taken place on your lower body, each of his thrusts feeling more intense than the other. you could tell he was getting closer from the way his teeth were nipping on your neck and his thrust were growing sloppier.

"please-ah!-please, let me cum inside you" he left your neck to look at you, and you felt the knot tightening and your legs starting to tremble. "let me fill you nice and full- please"

"yes, I want all of you" you almost screamed when he took that as confirmation to grab your back and glue his chest to yours, sharpening his thrusts.

it finally snapped and you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore. he held you so close as if he could melt into your skin and become one, and with a final thrust, he whined and groaned and screamed and did everything so involuntarily, almost animalistic, and your mind was too dazed to even comprehend anything else besides the way that your pussy gripped him so tight, keeping his hot seed inside you. you didn't want to let it go.

you were still spasming from your orgasm when he let go of your body and snapped your legs apart, taking place in between them, nuzzling his nose onto your pubic bone and feasting. his tongue lapped each of yours and his juices without mind, sucking, kissing, moaning, grunting, only to prolong the way your climax came down; you screamed so hard that your lungs burned.

falling limp on the bed covers, he let go, going back on top of you with the support of his arms and knees, face leveled to yours when he placed an innocent kiss on the tip of your nose and another one to your forehead.

"did it help you de-stress?" he joked and you placed one of your arms onto your eyes.

scoffing, you shook your head. "holy shit, I'm in love with you."

he gave you a slight push and rolled to his side, still staring at you with a darker flush across his chest and neck.

"well, I'm yours" he said and you licked your lips, sneaking a glance from under your arm.

"yeah, you better be."

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut

3K notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 11 months

Text

Bad Teachings

College Professor AU! Miguel O'Hara x reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Smut (I tried my best, I swear ;w;) Mildly dubious-con. Age gap implied

Hope you like 🥹✨

The last semester felt impossibly harder, nerve wrecking and it was as usual chipping away the little social life you had. Not that you had many friends really, mostly of the people you hung out with, were people that always ended either paired with you or gathered in group works.

Sure you were invited to parties here and there, but nothing too concrete.

But right now, none of it mattered, as you sat before your teacher, Peter B. Parker, at the verge of tears.

"Look, I know it seems like you'll fail, but you still have a chance." He was packing up his things and then looked your way. " I know you care for the other classes, but this one is also important. I just can't help you out this time."

"It was just one assignment! Mr. Parker. One! I had none to drive me out to that place."

"What about your friends?"

"Just... Please?, This is my last class, I can't afford another semester here."

Peter was one of the few lax teachers out there that would help out here and there when he was able to. One of your favorites actually, contrary to what people said, he was a good teacher.

"I know, I know, kid. Just let me see what I can do ok? Im not promising anything, but I can try. Mr. O'Hara isn't that bad."

You groaned hopelessly.

"God, Im so dead"

"He's not that bad. He's all bark and no bite, I'm telling you"

"Not to question your decisions, Mr. Parker but from all the teachers you could've picked, why Mr. O'Hara?"

"Not up to me kid, administration's doing. Besides, I'll be gone just a couple of weeks. You'll do fine. I'll speak to him, okay?"

You just nodded, hope hanging on a thread.

-------

You were fucked . In fact, you could already picture your parents' mortified expression upon the news and the student loan could only stretch up so far . Miguel O'Hara was... brutal.

He took no shit from anyone, he had 'zero chill' or so you had heard among the other students that barely passed with him. However, you were learning what you needed and wanted to learn. He was demanding, but a great teacher.

"He's hot." One of your classmates admitted as you were gathered in study groups to do an assignment due in a couple of hours.

"I heard he's married."

"No, he's not. No kids, nothing."

"I heard his daughter died."

"He doesn't like talking about that, Jen."

You subtly glanced at him, so ever stoic, frowning and serious, checking and grading assignments like nothing. He was intimidating overall. Everyone behaved and actually studied when he teached.

Class ended shortly after you finished the study group. However you waited a bit longer when everyone had been out to submit your group's part. And also, probably have a chance to ask about your class status.

The first thing you couldn't help but notice was how snug the button t-shirt was on him, your nose detected a tingle of his cologne, His hair was long yet well kept and silky looking. Hell, he probably had a better hair routine than you. His hands movements were smooth and swift, as if they had memorized a pattern. He stopped and looked up to you. For being a man on his early forties he looked younger.

A chill ran down your spine.

"Leave it there." He went back to scribbling notes and you obeyed.

"Mr. O'Hara?"

"Hm?"

You sighed quietly, fearful he might sense your fear.

"Sorry to bother you, Um... I was wondering if-" you swallowed as he looked back at you with a slight frown in his face

"If Mr. Parker left any extra work for me?"

His brow raised in confusion

"I haven't seen Mr. Parker in months, niña. I was just called two days ago to cover up his spot."

Shit.

"R-Right. Uh, I just asked since he said he would-"

"Help you out? Yeah, that's not happening."

"I know it's just another day for you when students come here and cry-"

"You're not crying, so that's a first."

Your cheeks burned a little at his odd praising, but also you were embarrassed overall. Your favorite teacher had definitely forgot about you.

"Just... hear me out. This is my last class, my last semester's weeks And I truly cannot afford to repeat the class."

"And that is my problem because?"

Your lips tightened and soon your eyes turned glossy, but still you were determined to see it through.

"It's just 5 points I need to keep my score and have my record approved."

"The class ain't over yet. Better keep it up."

"Mr. O'Hara, pl-"

"No."

"I will buy you empanadas?" He snorted

"See you next semester, kid. Close the door when you're out."

His no was pretty much definitive. Sighing you marched away from the classroom and closed the door. You didn't cry. That was something.

----

The following days you spent holed up in the library, roomie to loud and messy to be around as you prepared for the pre evaluation for the finals, occasionally you caught a glimpse of Miguel O'Hara, working as usual in his favorite corner, un bothered.

What truly was pissing you is that some of your teammates hadn't submitted their part of the job, wich was due tomorrow. The whole report was half done and still it was alot left to do. You were trying. And just when you felt anxiety began worming it's way in you, the seat across you was dragged open and no other than Mr. Miguel O'Hara sat before you.

He looked at you with a blank yet curious gaze.

"You look like you're about to have a nervous wreck."

"I am."

"Right, here." He showed you a printed paper, "Meet me there, at 6. Don't make plans."

"What?" you squinted your eyes to read the information

"Thought you wanted help?" Exasperated at your obliviousness he huffed, "Guess not"

"Wait!" you snatched the paper out of his hands, "Sorry. Just.. Thank you" he smirked.

Your eyes lit up upon reading the paper and nodded. If it wasn't for you being so tired, and him being scary, you'd probably hug him.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" You spoke in between whispers.

"Si si, cállate. Look, it's a conference college is organizing, in a week, if you want those five extra, go. I'll be there. Don't make plans."

"Funny you think I have a social life, Mr. O'Hara. But thanks. I really appreciate it."

"At 6. Formal dress code."

"Gotcha." you nodded as you grinned. He left you alone.

----

You'd look like a liar if he saw you, a cocktail in your hand, chatting to a classmate that was nice enough talk to. It was a small celebration for a good score in the past assignment, you could breath a little, feel a bit hopeful.

"Did you saw Mr. O'Hara today? God..." the girl almost moaned in the spot.

"You kidding? He doesn't fuck his students."

"Who knows, I might be the first?"

"In getting reported maybe. Dude is scary. A friend of mine repeated twice with him."

"What about you, (Name)? I saw you in the library chatting with him."

The whole attention suddenly dropped on you.

"Ah, yeah he told me he'd see me next semester"

"Shut up. You're failing too?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure he's hot and stuff, but... yeah. I don't know how to tell my parents actually. Add me to the chat group, by the way"

Before the conversation turned into how half female college students wanted him, your classmate took you to another private spot. Mike Aguilar was his name, someone that like you, avoided unnecessary attention. What you didn't expect was that he stole a kiss from you. Between cocktails and making out with Mike for a long time, the loud music, it felt good. Felt good to experience the other side of broke colege student.

You ended up being taken to your room, railed up but Mike was gentleman enough to not indulge since you both were drunk. How long had been since someone actually indulged you? Even more so, that you had indulged yourself? You removed your pants.

You were alone, but locked up the door, and grabbed your phone. Looking up in the group chat you looked for Mike's contact and typed.

"Hey Miky"

He replied almost instantly

"Sup, hlt stuff?" He didn't care for the typos

"Wanna see aumthin?"

"*Something"

You giggled as he send a "🥴" emoji.

Biting your lip, you put the phone in a pillow and began recording. Hands trailing on your clothed breasts as you sat down and spreaded your legs. One of your hands dipped inside your panties as the other one uncovered your breast to then squeeze and toy with one.

Your mouth had shaped in an 'o' as you bucked your hips to ride slowly your own hand. Your moans were needy and they turned more wanton as you kept toying with your nipples and clit, soon gasping for air, coming undone.

You then brought your slicked fingers to your mouth and licked them clean with a groan. You then giggled and stopped recording. The alcohol buzzed fully in your system, not only clouding your judgment, but also firing up a dirty mind.

"For your eyes only"

You uploaded the video and pressed send.

Tossing the phone on your nightstand, you went back to keep indulging in yourself before your roomie could get back. But this time, you had in mind a very specific scary teacher to think about.

----

The constant beeping in your phone bolted you awake. You turned off the alarm and saw your phone. Your eyes went wide awake as dread crept up to you.

"So... What was that you wanted to show me?"

Oh no.

Panic surged through your body as seeing Mr. O'Hara's chat open with a 'video' description. Shaky fingers opened it up, only to reveal the 'seen' mark in the chat.

OH NO.

-----

Against all odds and what could go wrong, you showed up in class. Sure, sending a porn video of yourself to your scary teacher was a major fuck up. But failing class would be even a bigger fuck up of all times, You had one foot outside of it all. Once out of college you wouldn't see Mr. O'Hara, and eventually he'd forget it all. Besides, you were pretty sure that he'd receive that kind of messages on a daily basis.

Sighing, you entered the classroom and as quietly as you could you sat in the very back of it. Class went as normal as you could, but the feeling of being watched was always present. Thankfully class was over and just as you snuck to get in, you snuck out.

You couldn't look at him in the face, not after what you had done in that video. Another reason of why you didn't drink often. But now a new problem laid ahead. How would you face him on Saturday?

Talking about, you didn't even know what to wear. Maybe the universe was conspiring against you, but you were grateful enough that he didn't bring it up, maybe he didn't pay much attention. There were so many scenarios running your mind.

----

In the end, you wrote an apology. It was easier to just apologize without seeing his face, and maybe things would be buried and forgotten as days passed.

But no. He had requested to see you after class.

As you approached you squeezed the written apologize and sighed once you were before his desk, across him.

"I need you to sign here, to confirm your assistance tomorrow."

You gulped and took the pen, after sliding the letter to him. He cocked an eyebrow to you as you signed.

"What's this?" He took the crumpled paper and opened it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see, amusement in them. A knowing look seizing you.

"I'm so so sorry. The... The video I mean. It wasn't for you, I swear! But I was-"

"Drunk and stupid? Yeah. Noted." He tossed the letter in the trashbin and stood with his arms on his waist, "I thought you were better than that, (Name)"

Your eyes glossed over the disappointment in his tone.

"Has anyone else seen it?"

You shook your head.

His eyes glinted with something dark, something you couldn't actually pinpoint and to be honest you were too embarrassed to ask.

"Good. Anyway, 6 pm. Austen's Auditorium"

"T-That far?"

"Have a problem?"

"Uh, no. I'll be there. I'll call an Uber."

"I'll drive you."

"What? No! I mean, no. I'm uncomfortable enough as it is. Don't wanna make this even more awkward."

"Trust me, nothing that I haven't seen before, unfortunately."

"Yeah, no. I'll call an Uber. I'm financially fucked anyways. Thanks" His pupils dilated so ever softly at the way your lips muttered the word fucked. His face remained steely as usual, but his eyes gave away so much.

"Whatever. Meet me in the last row, second seat, then."

------

You showed up, high waisted, tight, black, upper knee length skirt with a small slit on the side, a cream colored blouse with matching bra and a black blazer with nude heels. It was the standar, and the only truly formal wear you had in your closet. Uber drove you to the venue and soon, you met Miguel and sat next to him. You could recognize some other students along some other teachers from other areas. Conference was about the new ways of teaching and learning, nothing too groundbreaking as you had originally thought.

The conference was two hours long and at the end, you signed up a paper sheet and was told to wait on the entrance as Miguel greeted and signed out.

"Let's go."

Miguel guided you by placing a hand on your lower back, and gave a gentle push for you to follow him.

"Car's on the third floor"

"I told you that I could get an Uber."

"And risk you to be kidnapped or something? Not a chance. Besides I wanna keep my job as much as I can."

"Gee, thanks for caring, Mr. O'Hara."

"Todo un placer, preciosa." He chuckled

Your knees trembled as he spoke in spanish, you were sat on the front seat and fastened your seatbelt. He started the engine but it just revved a couple of times before it went dead. And just when you thought nothing could go wrong, it started pouring. Hard.

"Shit."

You groaned in frustration and Miguel smirked.

"Why the rush? Have somewhere to go?"

"No, Mr. O'Hara. Just wanted to rest. I'm not used to wear heels actually."

"Thought you were meeting with that guy you were making out the other night"

Your eyes widened in utter embarrassment as he stretched in his seat.

"Jesus... this can't be even more embarrassing."

"As your teacher, I completely disapprove such behaviors. Specially with that cabrón. He's not a good person."

"What do you mean?"

"He's conditioned. Likes to spread out intimate content of girls he gets."

"How do you know this?"

"I told you, nothing I haven't seen before."

You sank in your seat, mulling over his words.

"Hate to admit but... Im kinda glad knowing this. I mean, I'm really embarrassed though, but-"

"You're glad that little video fell onto my hands and not someone else?"

You nodded, unable to look at him as your face flushed.

"Yes, what?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Must admit though." His hands on the wheel tightened. "It took me by surprise. Out of all the female students, you, did a whole show."

You gulped as your breath hitched. His eyes squinted and that dark tingle was back at it again

"Hands in those cute ass panties, riding your hand like it was the last thing you'd ever ride."

His hand pulled his hair back as he bit his lip so ever softly. You on the other hand were trembling, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Who were you thinking of?"

"N-None. I swear. This is... really really bad"

"Maybe, but so is sending really explicit videos to your teacher, preciosa."

You shut your mouth and looked at him, he leaned in and studied your face. His index and thumb taking your chin.

"You're trembling. Why? A pretty thing like you shouldn't fear me. I'm not gonna hurt you. Quite the opposite actually." His thumb caressed your cheek and his lips brushed over yours.

"I wanna make you feel as good as you did in that video." He kissed your cheek and bit softly at your earlobe earning a shudder. It was like if another person had took over him.

"Can I? You want me to make you feel good, muñeca?"

He was overwhelming your senses, then you felt him unbuttoning your shirt. You nodded.

"W-Wait... what if someone sees us?"

Miguel unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you for a deep kiss. Moaning, your hands raked down his chest, stopping at his belt.

"Don't worry on it. It's fucking pouring outside." He riled up your skirt up, exposing the fabric of your panties. His lips went to your neck and kissed a soft trail as his fingers dipped between clothed folds, earning a whimper. His free hand managed to pull out one of your breast and then rolled his tongue over it.

"So sensitive" His fingers rubbed in slow circles your little flesh mount. He took a moment to pull one of the windows two inches down, enough for air to seep in.

"Spread those legs for me, preciosa. Lemme see that pretty pussy." Your hips accommodated as your skirt was pushed upwards, he then removed your panties and smiled.

"Sit on the back seat. Can't taste you properly like that." With trembling hands you moved on the back leathery wide seat as he moved the front ones forward, leaving more space in the back. He removed his blazer and his tie. Your heels long forgotten in the front seat. He seemed like a caged animal in a tiny space, and you a small snack for him.

His hands kneaded the supple flesh of your thighs, you removed the blazer and soon he finished unbuttoning your shirt, your bra was unclasped, spilling your breast freely. He groaned and kissed you once more. In your haste you unbuckled his belt but he stopped you.

"Are you on contraceptives?"

His fingers spreaded your legs further, exposing your slick flesh. You just nodded dumbly.

"No habrá problema entonces." He muttered more to himself than anyone as he bend over, one of your thighs dangled in his left shoulder as he brought your slit closer to his mouth.

He did a small cross blessing on himself and a little prayer and licked his lips.

"We've got to be grateful for this meal." His tongue went flat against your slit and dragged it up. Your toes curled up and you groaned.

"Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor." His lips focused in the little bundle of nerves, giving it soft suckles, kisses as his tongue dribbled in your inner folds.

"Podría comerte todo el día" He mumbled as he gave feathery bites on your plush flesh. His hands held your thighs, you were too enraptured in pleasure to mumble a coherent word. Instead your hands latched at his head softly and applied pressure only when he grew closer to that very sweet spot.

His tongue lapped up and soon his whole mouth disappeared between your folds. The obscene sound of his mouth working made your spine arch. He held you in place as his face kept buried between your legs. Your breath hitched as your body went taut. He switched in between devouring your clit and fucking you with his tongue.

"Y-Yes!" You hissed as searing pleasure crashed hard. Your toes curled in, and your body trembled, coming undone on his mouth. He made sure to clean you up before releasing your flesh with a wet pop. You pulled him for a kiss as the rain kept hitting the car, drowning any sound.

"Such a pretty and naughty baby." He cooed as he tied your hands behind your back with his neck tie, then pulled his pants down his knees and brought your knees close to your shoulders, exposing once more your puffed and wet cunt.

"Sending videos for me to watch" He pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing his flushed tip in your sopping folds. You moaned as he entered you slowly, feeling the good stretch of his cock in your walls and gasped.

Hearing your classmates talking about the possibilities of what Mr. O'Hara had between his legs was nothing compared to actually experiencing it as it dug deeper in your guts.

You gave a shaky whimper at how full you felt, and he was barely starting. You could only watch as his girth disappeared between your folds with ease.

"You're so tight, princesa." He kissed your temple, as you choked on a thrust he gave, shaking your whole body.

"Wanna be a good girl for me?" Nodding you groaned as he tangled one of his hands on your front bangs and held you still, to then ram his hips against yours. It earned him a sweet wail from you. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing at your warmth and tighteness

"So fucking good. Will give you a lil' present before you graduate." His hips slapped shamelessly and viciously, leaving you with little room to breathe properly. Your hands desperately trying to hold onto something

"Gonna miss you and this pussy when you're gone, you know that?" His voice rumbled through his chest between heavy pants and soft growls.

You were too cock drunk to actually speak, the lack of air was making you dizzy, soon you felt like a zombie, just grunting and moaning as his body crushed you, over and over, almost fucking you in to the seat. Miguel O'Hara was anything but gentle, in all sense of the word. The car shook softly and soon, you gritted your teeth as the pressure in your lower belly increased until you came on his cock. Gushing and clamping down hard.

Your body shook, and he cupped your cheeks, smiling at the debauched look on your face as you came, proud of himself. Your hands had numbed out, but he then untied them.

"Such a messy baby." His hips didn't stop, one of his hands snaked it's way to your neck and squeezed.

Your hands found a little strength to cling to his arm, his eyes never left you.

"Give me another one, mi amor"

He cooed as his hips fucked you silly, tears piling up at the corner of your eyes, overstimulation making a mess out of your senses. Your nails scratched his wrist as his thrust turned erratic, sloppier and finally he came as he cradled your limp body closer to his.

It was almost possessive. You gave a pathetic cry as you came with him. He kissed you softly and laid you gently.

He then pulled one of the windows down another couple of inches, letting air to refresh your burning body.

Your clothes were soiled, except for the blazer, the rest was drenched in sweat or covered in fluids. The good thing was that rain could cover up all evidence.

He looked at you in awe and pride.

----

"You look lovely in this one."

Mr. O'Hara's chat was opened, revealing a picture of you sucking his cock in his classroom with your graduation gown, looking at him with doe-like eyes.

"Thanks. You taste great, btw." You typed back, with a smirk

"Call me, Miguel, preciosa. I'm not your teacher anymore."

-----

Si si, cállate — "Yeah, yeah, shut up"

Todo un placer, preciosa - "My pleasure, gorgeous"

cabrón— Fucker

muñeca- Doll

No habrá problema entonces- "No problem then"

Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor- "You have a pretty pussy, my love"

Podría comerte todo el día- "I could eat you all day"

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader

3K notes · View notes

itoshiexx · 8 months

Text

can i dance with your s/o?

how the blue lock boys react when someone asks to dance with you.

pairings: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, reo mikage x fem!reader (separate) | warnings: jealousy, slight possessiveness, overall fluff, teeny bit suggestive on sae's

notes: hi guys! i wasn't planing on posting anything since i haven't been able to write (studying for the bar and all), but since i reached 300 followers, i thought maybe i could post this lil thing that was in my drafts for a long time lol it's quite different from what i usually do but i hope y'all like it! and tysm for 300!! <3

Itoshi Rin

the lights of the room flickered around the sparkles in your long dress and practically made you glow. the piece of clothing was beautiful — an italian design rin bought for you specially for that night, where you would accompany him to a charity event. there were hundreds of football players like him in the venue, but rin’s sight could only focus on you.

a song was playing softly in the background, and he admired you from afar, sitting in the bar along with some of his teammates while you chatted with their girlfriends, who became your friends pretty quickly. that was just how you were, always easy going and approachable, very unlike him. it was easy to be drawn to you like you were the sun, and rin was more than happy to be in your orbit.

then, the song changed to a slow paced tune, and he saw your beautiful eyes turn to him and sparkle just as much as your dress — if not more. the girls you were chatting with came towards their respective boyfriends, but you remained there, just staring, as if knowing it was a lost cause.

itoshi rin didn’t like to dance.

and while he was distracted by your orbs, someone decided to talk.

“can i dance with your girlfriend?”

the voice sent chills down his spine, and rin turned to the owner with a harsh glare, scrutinizing the image of none other than itoshi sae. they still had a pretty fucked up relationship, even after rin went pro, and he was not happy to hear what he just heard.

“what the fuck did you say?” his tone came out slowly, a veiled threat.

sae didn’t even blink. “i asked to dance with your girlfriend. you are certainly not doing it, and since i didn’t come with anyone, it would be rude to leave her there. haven’t you learned shit, rin?”

a vein nearly popped in his forehead. it was already bad enough to hear the condescending tone in sae’s voice, but implying he could take better care of you than him? no, that wouldn’t do.

“fuck off, you shitty brother. don’t come near her.”

he stormed off to the dance floor, leaving his shitty brother and his knowing smirk behind, immediately going to your figure. he could tell you were confused, but gave you no time to ask, taking your soft hand in his and dragging you to where the other couples were dancing.

both of his hands found home in your waist, just like he always found home in you. your arms laced his neck by pure reflex, considering you were still very much confused with your boyfriend’s attitude.

“what happened?”

rin played dumb. “hm? what do you mean? i’m just dancing with my girlfriend.” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

it really wasn’t. not when you smiled at him like that.

sure, itoshi rin didn’t like to dance. but he loved you, and if dancing would make you happy and keep you away from his shitty brother, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Itoshi Sae

parties were not really sae’s thing. he wasn’t one to socialize with his teammates, and he didn’t feel the need to talk to sponsors or to the media, considering he had a manager to do that. so how he got caught up in one was a true mystery.

sure, playing for the U-20 national team could be a big deal for a lot of people, but not for sae. he hated japan and all its weak players, and the only reason he agreed to play in the first place was to see project Blue Lock firsthand. he definitely did not sign for a party.

though he supposed he could endure it if you were there.

the dance floor was crowded, and a pop hit was blasting through the speakers. you were with sae on the bar just a minute ago, but your already tipsy self exclaimed to love this song and the need to dance it, so that’s what you were doing. and fuck, what a sight you were.

your skimpy dress hugged your body in all the right places, marking the curve of your ass. every time you moved in sync with the beat, swaying your hips, he could feel his breath hitch in his throat, always eager for what was under the fabric. you were breathtaking, and his.

“hey, genius boy!”

sae grunted when his eyes were forced to leave your frame, and he was not pleased to find oliver aiku by his side, portraying his signature toothy grin. his only acknowledgement was a hum, hoping oliver would take a hint and leave him the fuck alone.

“nice night, huh?”

sae sighed. apparently, he can’t take a hint.

“sure,” was all he said, turning his eyes back to you. you were still having fun by dancing like there was no tomorrow, and for a moment, sae wanted to smile from the way you were so carefree. he didn’t, though. but maybe something in his stoic demeanor cracked by looking at you, because the guy next to him spoke up.

“whatcha looking at?” oliver followed his sight before sae could fool him, and he felt anger rising when spotting a glimpse of desire in the heterochromatic eyes of his teammate. “oh, wow. what a babe.”

sae narrowed his eyes with an impossibly harsh glare that could make anyone cower. oliver didn’t. “she’s my girlfriend, so back the fuck off.”

“oh! can i dance with your girlfriend? she seems lonely.” the player smirked, seemingly enjoying to tease sae.

“look,” the older itoshi started, unamused. “you should probably know by now that i don’t tolerate bullshit. especially when it comes to her.”

oliver cocked his brow. sae continued, “so if you wanna have a slight chance to win against Blue Lock and not lose your shitty spot in the U-20 team, don’t fucking test me.”

finally, the player raised his hands in surrender, leaving without saying another word. chugging down the rest of his drink, sae made his way towards you, gluing his body behind yours and securing you close with a hand on your waist.

“hey, baby,” he mumbled in your ear. “wanna get out of here?”

Mikage Reo

being the heir of a billionaire corporation was no easy task. although there were some good parts in it, such as the money to do whatever one pleased, reo mostly dreaded everything related to his position. of course, this included the galas thrown by his family.

these galas were always full of snobby CEO’s and their heirs, trying to secure their spot in the light by arranging a marriage with the Mikage’s son. this part, at least, was solved when reo finally got married to you, and of course enduring hours of these boring parties became a hundred times better with you by his side.

however, he couldn’t say he was exactly pleased with the way all eyes were on you every time you put on some high couture outfit. you were stunning — reo knew that much, and he always boasted to anyone who could hear about it —, but he couldn’t help the spark of possessiveness that always ignited inside his chest whenever someone else stated this fact.

such as the old man talking to him.

“your wife is truly beautiful, mikage. a hidden gem.”

reo could feel his anger rising, jealousy and overprotectiveness becoming one. but he remained calm on the outside, a smiley façade that could effortlessly fool those around him. he couldn’t be rude, considering this geezer was one of the main investors of the mikage corporation.

“indeed, she is,” he answered through his teeth. the man didn’t seem to notice his gleaming eyes that could very much be homicidal.

“how long have you been married again?”

“two years.” he took a sip of the champagne glass in his hands. the liquid went down his throat with a burning sensation that made him momentarily forget about the searing rage in the pit of his stomach.

“oh, to be young again. i wish i could go back and enjoy my youth a little more,” the investor laughed, and reo had to force himself to do the same. his eyes, however, didn’t leave your frame.

you were graciously talking with three women of high society, distributing kind smiles as if they weren’t as precious as the diamonds in your neck, if not more. reo was well aware that none of the people on that gala deserved the goodness of your heart, but you couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards everyone. maybe that was why you were so adored. he knew for certain it was one of the reasons he loved you so much.

“do you mind if i dance one song with her?”

fuck. that man was still there.

“sure,” albeit hesitantly, reo agreed with a forced smile, watching as the investor walked up to you and bowed to ask for a dance. with your usual gentleness, you agreed, taking his hand and going to the middle of the ballroom for a waltz. the mikage could only watch your ethereal form glowing under the candelabrum, eyes softening with the way you were so carefree.

he was glad to have your purity in such a corrupted world.

when the song ended, reo wasted no time in coming to you and taking your hand from the man with a gentlemanly gesture that made you smile. you bid farewell to the investor with a small courtesy, your hand finding your husband’s easily.

“hey, beautiful.”

“hey, handsome,” you whispered, eyes sparkling. “you were totally holding yourself back, weren’t you?”

you both laughed at the way you could read him so easily. though reo didn’t mind.

“hell, yes. i was dying to drag you back to my arms.”

it was where you belonged, anyway.

2K notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 10 months

Note

Hiiiiiii so idk if you saw how Kourtney Kardashian revealed her pregnancy to Travis Barker but it SCREAMS Rockstar!Eddie to me…

Just imagine him jumping off the stage after a show all sweaty and shit, kissing you over and over again, just over the moon so happy… I- it’s doing things to me 🥵

AN | I have not seen it, but looked it up, and it’s totally rockstar!eddie! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"No way," you looked between the small stick in one hand and the box in the other. You weren't sure if you were more excited or nervous or downright terrified, "no way!"

You looked in the mirror and studied your reflection; you were wild-eyed and flushed, hair in a messy bun and still in pajamas. You'd basically woken up and run to the store as such and still hadn't made much progress. You were much too excited.

Today marked the second period in a row that you'd missed. Combined with the way you'd started to feel lately, you couldn't help but wonder. And that led you to this moment - finding out that you were pregnant.

Your first thought was to call Eddie right away to tell him the good news. You hadn't been trying to get pregnant but you hadn't been trying to prevent it either. But - Eddie was still away, so close to being home from the tour Corroded Coffin was currently on. Tomorrow night was the hometown and last show of the tour. You'd see him soon.

And that gave you a wonderful little idea.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Nancy," you called her as soon as you'd gotten showered and dressed, still feeling like you were in a daydream, "I've got a big favor to ask!"

"Uh oh," you could hear the amusement in her voice, "what did you get up to this time, trouble?"

"I may or may not have gotten myself knocked up," you waited with baited breath for her to catch on. Trying to keep it casual and nonchalant was already proving to be a challenge. It took her a few moments before you heard her excited gasp.

"You're pregnant?!" She was practically squealing in delight as you nodded enthusiastically, barely remembering that she couldn't see, "oh my god, that's amazing! When did you find out?"

"Like an hour ago," you still had the test on the kitchen counter next to you, "you're the first to know."

"Yay," your best friend sounded like she was tearing up as well, "I'm so happy for you. Seriously, this is wonderful. Our babies will be able to grow up together!"

"And Steve and Eddie can be the dorkiest dads ever," you sighed softly, "I haven't told Eddie but since tomorrow's the last show of their tour, I figured I'd surprise him then. I have an idea-"

"I'm in!"

"I haven't even told you what the plan is yet!"

"I don't care," you loved her tenacity, "I'm in regardless!"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that evening the two of you were camped in your living room, with big, colorful markers and poster boards. Your plan was to right some sort of announcement on them to Eddie, letting him know that you were pregnant. You played around with a couple of different ideas, but eventually settled on one. You'd be front and center at the show tomorrow and would make sure he saw your sign.

"Do you think he's even going to notice?" You looked at your handiwork and let out a long sigh, "or do you think he'll ignore it? Maybe he'll think it's just a random fan."

"Seriously?" Nancy scoffed playfully as she nudged your leg with hers. You offered her a sheepish grin in return, "he always looks for you. He's…such a sucker for you."

"Hopefully," you couldn't help the way that her comment made you feel. You knew he loved you, that much was always obvious, but knowing others saw it too was an entirely different type of sensation, "especially now that I'm carrying his kid."

"He's going to freak out," you raised your eyebrows in question and she shook her head, "freak out in a good way! He's going to he terrified, but he's going to be a great dad. And you'll be a great mom. Swear."

"I hope so…if not I've got months to agonize over it," you finished coloring in the big block lettering of your word and leaned against the couch, "was it both incredibly amazing and terrifying for you when you found out?"

"Duh," she teased softly, "its normal. No one's got it all figured, but that's okay. It's going to be amazing."

"What if I'm not ready?"

"It's a little too late for that, I think," she winked at you, and your entire face flushed. You'd always been all in for Eddie - this just made you even more sure of that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm having second thoughts," you looked over at Nancy who was standing to your right with a huge smile on her face. She understood your nerves - she'd felt the same way the first time she told Steve she was pregnant. You were clutching the poster in your hand so tightly that your knuckles were turning white, "maybe I shouldn't."

"You should and you will," she wiggled the poster in her hands and offered you what she hoped was an encouraging smile, "we're here, the posters are ready, and Eddie will be on stage any moment!"

"Okay," you felt sick to your stomach, but you were pretty sure it wasn't anything due to your pregnancy, "right."

Before you could argue with her any further, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. The sudden shift in the excitement caused you to startle for a moment before nerves settled into your bones. You were in the front VIP area, close to the stage as you often were, which gave you a perfect view of the stage.

You almost swooned when Eddie came onto the stage along with the rest of the band. The crowd was cheering their name and you couldn't help but join in. This was exactly where he was meant to be - he owned the stage with grace and ease.

Eddie gave a little speech before the band rolled into their set. Any remaining nerves went away as you sang and bopped along to the music with Nancy. It was easy to lose yourself in the moment, but you were quickly pulled back into reality when you saw Eddie looking around the crowd. He was looking for you, just as it always was.

You heard your heartbeat in your ears as everything around you seemed to disappear. You weren't in a sea of thousands anymore - it was just the two of you. His pretty face lit up with a saccharine and beaming smile as his eyes found yours. Your own smile in return was practically ethereal as you blew him a kiss. He winked before slipping back into rockstar mode and continued playing his heart you.

You always wondered how he could even find you, considering the bright lights of the stage made it difficult to see much of the audience. He said it was because his heart always knew where to find you. He called him a dork; he called himself a hopeless romantic for you.

"Oh come on," Nancy practically squealed as she held onto your arm, "the two of you are disgustingly precious!"

"I know," you admitted softly, "I know."

As the rest of the show went on, you kept trying to find the perfect moment to hold up your poster. You decided to save it for the last song - what better way to end the show?

You shouted your little plan into Nancy's ear and, to no one's surprise, she totally supported the idea. Once they started playing the last song you threw up your posters and started calling Eddie's name loudly. The two of you were attracting attention from all around you. Part of you expected to find angry looking faces ready to tell you to keep it down but instead you found a lot of excited faces.

"Eddie!" You shouted his name at the top of your lungs, jumping up and down to capture his attention. That seemed to spark something in him and he turned towards you. It took him a few moments to lock eyes with you, but once he did you saw him look at the posters the two of you were holding up.

His expression blanked for a moment before he seemed to realize what they said. In big, bright letters your sign said, Eddie, I'm pregnant! while Nancy's said Eddie, she's pregnant!

“Hold on,” Eddie stopped playing, looking at you the entire time as he grabbed his mic, “pardon me for a moment.”

And with that, he practically ripped his guitar off and set it on its stand at the edge of the stage before jumping down into the audience and making his way over to you, pushing eagerly through the crowd. He stopped right in front of you, reading over your sign again before looking at you with a nervous expression. His heart was beating so wildly that he was surprised that it didn’t burst through his ribcage.

“Baby,” his voice was almost trembling as you looked at him with teary eyes, “are you serious? We’re having a baby?”

“Yes,” and just like that, the tears were running down your cheek as you nodded at him, “I’m pregnant.”

“No fucking way,” he eagerly, but still tenderly, took your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he kissed you; the fact that you were in the middle of a giant crowd didn’t both either of you. He pulled back and gently brushed away your tears, “we’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you confirmed as he looked at you incredulously. To him you were, and had always been, pure magic. You were the girl of his dreams and now you were having his baby? It seemed like a dream, “surprise!”

“Best surprise ever,” he promised as he kissed you again. He looked back at the stage and then at you, “let me, ugh, let me wrap things up real quick.”

“By all means,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before nudging him back towards the stage, “I’ll be right here.”

He nodded before almost running back to the stage, leaping onto it and grabbing his beloved guitar again. He turned back to the rest of the band and they looked at him in understanding, already well aware of where this was going.

“Ladies and gents,” he looked through the crowd that was eagerly watching him, “I think I’ve just gotten the best news ever from the best person ever. My girl - she’s pregnant!”

Your entire body warmed up as you shook your head at his antics. But you knew him and loved him, and the fact that he was immediately so excited made your heart feel happy and relieved. You could feel the crowd turn to you as they started to cheer.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and now she’s giving me the best thing ever,” he took a moment to breath, already feeling a rush of emotion bubble up, “baby, I love you so much. And, on that note, we’re gonna end this night on a song that I wrote for her when we first started dating. So if you know the words, sing along!”

He launched into your song, one of many, and a huge part of the crowd joined him. It was such an odd thing to have so many people singing one song in unity and to know that it was al for you. Eddie might have a been a lot of things, but he was the love of your life. That much you’d always known.

Sure, the idea of being pregnant and having a baby was terrifying, but with Eddie at your side, you were sure it would all be okay.

After the show, you made your way backstage, not even having to bother to flash your access pass as you looked for Eddie. You felt electric, but you couldn’t wait to have a moment alone with him.

As soon as you were in his proximity, he spotted you and made his way over to you. This time he was able to wrap his arms around you and pulled into his body, hugging you tightly.

“Eddie,” you laughed softly, feeling him pepper kisses all over the side of your head, “I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry,” his cheeks pinked as he looked you over, almost as if he was trying to see any visible sign of your pregnancy, “I’m just…wow. You’re pregnant and I’m just…wow.”

“I found out yesterday,” you reached into your pocket and handed him one of the several tests you’d taken, “and I wanted to surprise you.”

“Best surprise ever,” he looked at the small stick with a look of awe etched into his features, “and that little reveal? Baby, you’re a genius. This is…fuck, I’m so in love with you.”

“Are you…happy?’ you asked softly, still craving the reassurance despite his clear indication of happiness.

“So happy,” he brushed his knuckles along your cheek, sighing softly, “this is amazing, baby. There’s no one else I’d ever want to do with this. But, it’s about you too - are you happy?”

“Yes,” you promised, taking his hand and settling onto your belly, where soon you’d be able to see evidence of your child, “happier than ever. I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered so only you could hear it. You felt him gently rub your belly, “and you too, baby. Both of you - so much.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #st #rockstar!eddie

2K notes · View notes

stillfruit · 2 years

Text

care is when you are forcibly dragged, kicking and screaming all the way, to finish what you have to do <3

#i'm not kidding this is not a joke i've never felt friendship as intensly as now w my friends helping me finish my thesis #this probably shows how socially isolated i am in every way but like listen i do not experience support on a daily basis #my graduation and future education are dependent on this i just have to get my bachelor's thesis done but it's been so fuckign difficult #for absolutely no reason other than me being incompetent and stupid #i mean some of it is also me not feeling very health this spring but ya mostly it's bc i just haven't been able to do it for no reason #i have to turn my thesis in tomorrow midnight and i'm still not finished w it but i could've never gotten this far without my friends honest #google docs comments are a love language for me #sucks that my thesis is very much extremely flawed and shallow etc etc but at the same time it's like it doesn't matter since #i'm pretty sure i will get like a. 3/5 max since my program does not like me even if every other course i get 5s #so i've already given up and tbh that's probably a part of why it's been so difficult but having ppl help??? works??? to make things easier?#incredible who would've thought honestly #anyway i cannot wait to be fuckign done but at the same time i don't want this to be it because i'm so incredibly disappointed in myself #because this is The thing you study to do for 3 years and you have a half a year for it and i've done all of the work that actually matters #for this in. like a week in the actual most distracted manner possible #it is what it is though i wish i get this done and over with and don't forget something really important #shit talking

1 note · View note

matchascara · 8 months

Text

STRESS RELIEF | KAZUHA

IN WHICH: you're a picture perfect student who does nothing but study. he's a slacker who never misses a smoke sesh, but this time, you're invited.

contents- usage of marijuana

(not proofread)

the white haired boy always came late to class with nothing but a joint tucked inbetween his ear, or, some days if he's feeling extra studious, he'd replace it with a pencil. his bandaged hands were always empty, and fiddled with his red lighter under his desk in order to keep himself entertained as lecture continued.

so it was a great shock to you when after various amounts of awkward eye contact, he finally spoke to you, making an unexpected request.

"will you help me study?"

you were a straight A student, always the first one to finish tests, constantly studying in lab, and you never missed a day of class. maybe you were too good of a student and it caused you to lack friends, as your attention was always in the dimly lit screen of your laptop, hurrying to finish up an essay way before it's due date.

however, after some convincing, well more like, constant pestering from kazuha, you finally agreed.

you'd help him study at his place tonight.

that's what you agreed to anyway.

but what you didn't agree to was the high amount of awkward tension that arose between the two of you as he sat close to you, almost hovering over you as he "read" from your textbook.

"it's really not that difficult to understand. maybe let's revise it once more." you suggested, as you slowly scooted away from him.

he slightly threw his head down and let out an amused smirk at your rejection. "god, you read shit like this 24/7 while sober? i commend you." kazuha said, leaning his arm against the table as he turned his body to face you.

"well in what state am i supposed to study in? because it's certainly not drunk nor high." you sighed as you erased his math work, handing him the paper in order to redo it. "you got number 5 & 8 wrong."

he ignored your attempt at changing the topic. "you're always so caught up with your study, do you ever let loose?"

you stayed silent for a bit. you really haven't ever "let loose", you've never had time for it. but to you, it was a little lame, so you decided to lie. "yeah."

"liar."

"i'm not lying."

kazuha let out a small chuckle at your persistence. "so, you wouldn't mind rolling up right now then?"

"rolling up? uh, like, a joint?" you questioned, slightly raising your brow in suspicion.

"yeah. a joint. believe it or not, it'll help us focus a bit more. maybe i'll finally get question 5 right."

you were a bit taken aback by how casually he suggested smoking. it's not like you had anything against it but it just wasn't...you.

so you had no idea how you ended up actually considering it. i mean, exams were approaching, so you've been doing nothing but slaving yourself in the library, and as much as you hated to admit it. you were stressed beyond belief, and somehow, kazuha noticed this as well.

--maybe that's why you both ended up taking long drags of the blunt he'd rolled. with you coughing almost every time you pulled.

kazuha was nothing but amused right now. he wasn't expecting you to actually agree, and it was almost weird to him to see you like this. "so, how are you feeling?" he asked, ashing the blunt on the table before he took another pull.

"i feel okay, i guess." you lied once again. you were definitely feeling the effects of the weed. your mind that was once only filled with anxiety and stress of the next due date of your assignments was now at peace, and you were definitely more aware of your surroundings.

and you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this slacker was.

the red streak on his bangs contrasted his platinum white hair that was tied into a messy half up half down updo, but enhanced his deep red eyes that looked down at the blunt placed inbetween his lips as he relit it.

he finally spoke again as he was able to relight the blunt, taking a long pull and blowing it almost directly in your face. "wanna feel even better?" his voice was low, as sultry as the corners of his mouth curved into a mischievous smirk.

"like, how?"

kazuha placed his free hand on your thigh, slowly running it further up to your inner thigh as he leaned himself close to you, his marijuana scented breath tickling your neck as he spoke.

"allow me to help you relieve some stress."

kazuha looked back at you, his usual softly hued red eyes now burnt with lust as he watched you, awaiting your response.

you were silent for a while, as the blunt burned slowly in his fingers, the smoke seemed to be the only thing that moved as everything else seemed perfectly still.

kazuha took another pull of the blunt that had significantly shortened in size. but this time, he didn't inhale it fully, he kept it in his mouth, moving the smoke side to side before he grabbed your chin, pulling your face only centimeters away from his.

he slightly opened his mouth, the smoke now more dense as it lingered within. you were slightly confused as you copied his movements, hesitantly opening yours as well.

kazuhas lips grazed against yours as he blew the smoke into your mouth, this caught you off guard, but you inhaled it nevertheless.

he didn't move his face away from yours as you inhaled the smoke. instead, his lips met yours, kissing you deeply. the taste of mint mixed with the marijuana that lingered on his tongue intoxicated you, causing you to return the kiss.

you slightly opened your mouth, allowing his soft tongue to enter, intertwining with yours as the kiss deepened and became more erotic. he pressed his body against yours further, pushing you down onto the couch.

kazuha was laying now on top of you, his hand still gripping your thigh as he slowly moved it up and down in a sensual manner. whilst his other hand still holding the blunt that was still lit.

your soft moan of pleasure and the way you interlocked your fingers into the back of his head, gripping a handful of his hair, pushing his lips deeper into yours seemed to be his turning point as he put out the blunt by pressing his against the table, refusing to break the kiss.

"you've ever been kissed like this?" his lips grazing against yours as he spoke.

"...no."

he seemed to have liked this answer as you felt his cold fingers tease your skin when he slipped his hand under your shirt and under your bra, kissing you once more, biting and sucking your tongue every time it entered his mouth.

the tension between you two was only rising as the kiss became more intimate. your body which rose in temperature was fully pressed against his, and you could feel him harden against you.

kazuha bit your bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss, his hand still caressing your thigh in a suggestive manner.

you took a deep breath as you looked at him, and the awkwardness that was once there was now replaced by high sexual tension that pervaded throughout the room.

"i'll take you up on that offer." you finally answered.

#genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact #kazuha smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha genshin impact #genshin headcanons

771 notes · View notes

darkworkcourier · 1 year

Note

Could you write Ghost x fem!reader where she finds him attractive but is too shy to actually tell him but also can't hide the way she's feeling, so Ghost notices her interest and eventually they end up in bed (*cough* you know what I mean)? Also Ghost being gentle and protective towards her, plz

Ps. I love your writing!

Word Count: 8314

i’m incapable of short prompt fills, apparently! o, but i am filled with grief!

anywho, reader’s codename is ‘ladybird’ (hc that soap gave it to her because she’s lucky) but is otherwise nameless.

contains masturbation, oral sex, lots of feelings, wee bit of slow burn, ghost being like weirdly emotional and soft, and soap’s gratuitous and unfortunate use of emojis. 💀/🐞4ever

---

The first time it really hits you, you're in a helicopter about two miles above the ground—honestly a terrible place to face your feelings. It's a velvet-dark night, strategically chosen for the new moon, the countryside below nearly invisible. You're almost in a doze, caught up in the Chinook's blades' low, thunderous pulse and the sporadic rocking as it hits little glades of turbulence. Your eyes lose focus on some of the running lights, until they turn hazy, and its only when the man across from you moves his boot do you snap back to attention.

Ghost. Right. You learned his name a few weeks ago during your orientation, but he was deployed on a recon mission only a day later. Price summoned him back for this mission, but aside from a few gruff comments at the all-hands meeting, you haven't heard him say much.

For a moment, you think he might have dozed off, too. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. And that’s fair, you think; Soap told you he didn’t think Ghost ever slept.

You silently study him, the way his head rocks a little with the turbulence, how much taller he is than everyone else in his row, the peculiar illusion that the eye sockets of his mask are empty—

And suddenly they aren’t.

He’s looking back at you, dark eyes regarding you passively, even though the mask makes every look significantly more intimidating. For moment that goes on way too long, you don’t look away, your gazes locked. Your heart takes the tracheal elevator to your throat, beating loud enough to drown out the Chinook’s roar.

You look away first, and you swear you hear him snort.

The rest of the journey to the drop-off zone, you deliberately don’t look at him; but when you close your eyes, there he is.

All you can think is ohhhh, shit.

---

Military crushes aren’t abnormal. Put enough people at the peak of physical excellence in a room, throw around some form-fitting uniforms, and mix in a few adrenaline rushes—it’s a goddamn potent mixture. You’ve had your share of mess hall dreamy-eyed gazing sessions, and a few ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go’ moments in gyms and fitness centers. That’s fine; that’s normal.

What you start feeling for Ghost isn’t that.

Nevermind that he’s rarely out of tactical dress, and if he is, he usually defaults to a hoodie or something that doesn’t exactly entice the imagination. And he’s never out of some variation of his mask, so you can’t think woah, pal, do you cut glass with that jawline because as far as you can tell, he doesn’t have one. No mooning over cheekbones, admiring the curve of lips. He has nice eyes, but ever since the night in the Chinook, you haven’t been able to meet them for more than a second before your heart does that terrible little samba again.

Per your mental checklist, aside from being tall and muscular, he doesn’t check all your normal boxes. By all those counts, Gaz or Soap are way better fits. Hell, Soap likes to hang around in his silkies like they’re pajamas, showing off plenty to keep your fantasy fodder trough filled. And you’ve caught Gaz doing push-ups in the lounge, his tight shirt doing wonders for his shoulders.

But it’s Ghost who makes you feel like a hormonal teenager. It’s Ghost that gets you antsy and fidgety when he enters a room. And it’s Ghost that you think about during your rare alone time in the shower, when your hands start drifting south and the tile walls are your only support.

You’ve got it bad for him, and you have no idea what to do about it.

---

You’re doing recon in Berlin when Soap notices.

The mission details are simple: a drug lord known as Keiler using a night club as a go-between for his suppliers and dealers—all further complicated by the fact that he has plenty of friends in the arms trade, and by Laswell’s reports, he’s very generous to those friends. The club is a front, a money laundering wonderland. Through your observation, drugs and alcohol are doled out in equal volume, all to the backdrop of skull-splitting bass and sharp scalpels of strobe lights.

The biggest obstacle is that Keiler likes to use a private room overlooking the club as his perch, and your intelligence says that at any given time, he has a small army defending him. Getting to him requires an incredible degree of finesse. Naturally, Ghost is the one to do it.

You, Soap, and Gaz are scattered around the main floor of the club. Gaz is out on the dance floor, Soap’s taken up a spot near the bar, and you’re in the lounge. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this (and in an outfit with so little fabric), and you’re really not used to being ogled and pawed by a bunch of drunk, drugged, or horny Berliners.

Soap must see your discomfort from his position, as you hear a dry, amused, “Feelin’ a little tense, Ladybird?”

You swallow hard and chase it with a sip of your drink, which definitely needs to be watered down. “I’m fine,” you say.

“You look like you just drank petrol.”

“You’re the one who ordered it for me.”

Gaz cuts in with a weary, “Do we have eyes on Ghost, yet? I’m starting to get tired of people grabbing my—”

“I’m here,” Ghost’s voice scrapes over the comms, causing you to sit up straight and look around. You catch sight of Soap who has his hand curled in front of his mouth, clearly snickering like a heathen.

“Think you scared the shit out of Ladybird, LT,” he says.

He’s lucky he’s on the other side of the room, otherwise you’d pretend to be extremely clumsy and find an excuse to spill your drink on his (very, very tight) shirt. You mouth ‘shut up’ at him, and he reaches up with his pointer finger to draw an invisible halo over his head.

Ghost ignores him. “I’m near the east stairwell, headed to second deck. Got one guard at the far end. Gaz, you seein’ anything I should know about?”

A pause, then, “Negative, Ghost. I’ve got what you’ve got.”

“Copy. Going to second deck now.”

Out of habit, your eyes go to the east stairwell, peering through the haze pierced with multicolored lights to see a single dark shape ascending. He disappears behind a catwalk, then reappears to the right, mingling with the crowd near the second floor bar. Once he’s there, he seems to fade into the throng of people, most in dark clothing, some in masks. Just like that, he’s invisible.

It’s hard to focus on looking calm and happy to be there, but you keep sipping your drink, watching the dancers and feeling the bassline of yet another techno song thrumming in your chest. You’re glad you’re not out on the dance floor, or being called to give come-hither glances to bouncers and guards.

Then, “Coming back down to first deck,” Ghost says, clearly agitated. “Too many guards and too many people. We need another way up.”

Soap grins. “Violence isn’t the answer, LT?”

“Negative. Start looking for another route.”

On cue, you stand up and cross the room to the bar, sliding in beside Soap. He’s fishing for another couple Euro from his wallet, pushing it across to the bartender with two fingers. The bartender gives him a brief nod and refills his glass, while Soap turns his attention to you.

“Any bright ideas?”

You frown and adjust the straps on your top again. It’s a stupid piece of clothing, always feeling like it’s going to fall off. “Only the emergency stairs by the front doors, but I can’t imagine Keiler leaves those undefended.”

Soap looks thoughtful and scratches at his stubble. “Yeah, but probably no civilians, either. And if the door’s alarmed, Ghost can take care of that.”

As if summoned, you feel Ghost appear before you see him, a huge presence over your shoulder that makes you jump. “Jesus!” you hiss.

And Soap, the traitor, laughs to the point of wheezing as Ghost takes up the bar stool on his other side. “I think you’re giving our Ladybird here a complex,” Soap says through his laughter.

Ghost rolls his eyes. From this angle, you can see Ghost in more than just the dim light you’ve been working with most of the night. He’s not dressed too far outside his usual fashion wheelhouse—heavy boots, black trousers, and a loose black hoodie. His hood’s pulled up over a black beanie and a skull-painted gaiter, and he’s foregone his usual thick coating of greasepaint for black-ringed eyes (is that eyeliner?) and a streak of smoke-colored paint that just manages to obscure the color of his brows. The downside (for you, at least) is that the combo manages to draw his eyes into sharper contrast, making them that much more intense.

Suddenly, your heart’s doing the thing again.

Ghost doesn’t seem to notice any change in you, but you think Soap’s actually looking for it. He watches you, brows lifted, mouth curled like a flirtation of a smirk. Briefly, he glances between you and Ghost, and then the smirk appears in full force, enlightenment dawning.

Before he can insinuate a thing, you’re shoving your half-empty glass across the bar top with a too-high, “Bitte.” The bartender only gives you a brief, unamused look before taking your glass and remaking whatever godforsaken cocktail Soap ordered.

It’s not a good distraction, and the damage is already done. Soap knows, damnit. His smile is too easygoing, but he turns to Ghost and starts talking about the emergency stairwell, which is a relief. Ghost looks over his shoulder toward the stairwell in question, and as he does, Soap looks at you and makes the gesture of zipping his own mouth shut, throwing away the proverbial key with a wink.

As he does, Gaz pipes back up with, “Ghost, you copy?”

“Yeah, Gaz?”

“You, uh, know anything about a big guy with a tattoo of a boar on the back of his head?”

Ghost looks toward the dance floor, brows furrowing. “Yeah, that’d be Bauer, Keiler’s right hand man.”

“Great. Glad you know him, because he’s here.”

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be. If Bauer’s here, then either Keiler’s doing something more than his usual partying upstairs, or Keiler knows someone’s here looking for him. Either way, the mission just got significantly harder, and your night got that much longer.

With a grunt, Ghost pushes off the bar and starts making his way to the emergency stairwell. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Keep your eyes open. Out here.”

Once he’s gone, there’s a pause—a very heavy pause. Then, Soap looks at you with an expression that is just a hair too pleased. “Ghost, huh?”

Your face heats up, right as the bartender hands you your drink. You reach for your wallet, only for the bartender to put a hand up and shake his head. “Nein, für das schöne Mädchen,” he says.

For the pretty girl.

“Bet Ghost thinks so, too,” Soap says, and you resolve to definitely spill your free drink on his too-tight pants.

---

Weeks after Keiler’s nice and cozy in a maximum-security prison and the 141 is back at base, you have another miniature existential crisis.

It’s all an accident—just a tempest of bad timing and bad luck. Ever since you came back from Germany, you’ve had a tough time getting a full night’s sleep. It’s easy to blame the natural stress of your work, the long hours, the high-adrenaline action you see more than you ever did before this job. And, well, part of it has to come from Ghost. He’s occupied your thoughts more than ever since the night club.

Your solution is to hit the gym late at night, pushing yourself until you can’t keep your eyes open and no amount of insomnia can overcome it. The first few nights of this effort work fine—you end up in bed around one or two in the morning, and sleep until your alarm goes off. No one bothers you; no one hogs the machines. It’s kind of nice.

However, you don’t account for all the night owls that share the base with you.

You head to the gym late on a Friday night, towel around your neck, water bottle at the ready, podcasts preloaded. If you ever hit the gym during the day, you usually do so in a t-shirt and sweatpants. At night, you’ve started opting for PT shorts and a tank top, happy for the lack of eyes around the room.

Except for tonight.

You open the door into the gym, only to hear the mechanical drone of a treadmill and someone sprinting damn fast on it. For a second, you freeze, hiding behind the corner. Then, slowly, you peer around it, clutching your phone and water bottle close to your chest.

Jesus Christ. It’s Ghost.

Ghost, in a t-shirt. In sweatpants. Running on a treadmill set to the highest incline. Panting.

Ghost, with bare arms, showing a detailed tattoo on his left arm, and prominent veins running over his chiseled muscles. He looks like a fucking Greek statue, and that’s just what you can see.

“Ohhh, my God,” you whisper to yourself, immediately working on an exit strategy that doesn’t involve catching his attention.

Which obviously doesn’t come to pass. It’s something you probably should have learned on the helo ride—Ghost knows when he’s being watched. He turns his head, dark eyes fixing on you immediately. Briefly, he looks back at the treadmill, then down at his watch, and back to the treadmill’s controls. He slows it down, dropping the incline, until he finally steps off and starts walking toward you.

Abort, abort.

You think about fleeing, running back to your room or rolling under a table or hiding behind a counter like he’s a goddamn velociraptor in the kitchen. You do none of those things, because despite your training, you freeze up. No one could blame you, you think. It’s hard to do much else when a six-foot-something skull-faced wall of muscle walks up to you. And you must look stellar, holed up in a corner by the door, your water bottle and phone held up like a shield.

Ghost takes in the sight of you, eyes flicking up, down, up. Heat rises to your face, and down to—to nowhere, because it’s better not to think about it. You suddenly feel too vulnerable in your choice of outfit, naked under his gaze.

“Ladybird,” he says. Your nickname becomes a hot scratch of sound, losing its whimsy in favor of a tone you can’t define. “You need somethin’?”

There’s a patch of sweat by his collar. You stare at it, then at the floor.

“No, I just— I was, um, just about to leave, and... Yeah, I’m gonna go.”

He’s silent until you finally look up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what what feels like an eon. He looks amused, but there’s a quirk in his brow like he can’t quite get a good read on you. “You look like you were about to use the gym.”

You look down at your bottle, phone, and towel like you’re just now noticing them. When you bring your attention back to him, you feel like you need to just kick the door open and escape, dignity be damned. “I... was,” you say slowly. Then, you rally yourself, trying to look upbeat and resolved. “Y’know what? You can keep using it. I’ll come back later.”

He shrugs, but you see it. Some secondary expression slinking around in his eyes like it’s working through the perpetually-moving cogs in his head. He gives you another one of those assessing glances, and for a second, you think he’s going to step into your space. His body language looks primed to do so, and you hold your breath in anticipation for it, unsure of what he’s going to do.

Then he takes a step back, and another.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

Before you can process his words, he’s back on the treadmill, tweaking the settings and raising the incline again. The belt starts moving, and he’s back to looking like power personified, a vision in motion.

You have got it so bad.

It’s a hasty retreat to your room, and once the door’s shut behind you, you’re panting like you had run on the treadmill and lifted weights.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss, discarding your things on the table beside your bed, kicking off your running shoes, then laying down and staring at the ceiling. He knows. He has to. Ghost’s whole job depends on him being observant, and he looked at you like he was reading a fucking book.

You groan and press your palms into your eyes until phosphenes appear, dancing around and shimmering like fireworks behind your eyelids. You’re going to have to leave the 141 out of pure mortification. You’ll have to go into some kind of witness protection, change your name, and move to the other side of the earth. Or if you stay, you’ll have to pretend Ghost doesn’t exist. You’ll hide behind walls, slinking through the building’s HVAC just to avoid him like you’re working on a heist. Maybe you can convince Soap or Gaz to accompany you everywhere so you can hide behind their bulk.

But then, your horrible brain reminds you of what you’ll miss out on. It runs through a greatest hits reel of your crush so far—Ghost’s eyes, his presence stretching long over you like a shadow, his massive frame, his arms. The tattoo, detailed enough to tell from a distance, and then the thought of running your fingers over it, tracing all the fine points and lines. And are those his only tattoos, or are there more?

And his voice. Jesus, you replay the few words you’ve heard him say over and over, savoring each syllable, each quirk of his accent. Even the last thing he said—

I wouldn’t mind it, though.

That makes you open your eyes again, widening them as you take in the pocks and scrapes on the ceiling. He wouldn’t mind what? Having company in the gym? Having you, specifically, as his company? You don’t know what to make of it, or what he meant by it. Honestly, you feel like you don’t know anything right now.

Except that you want him. That’s the only thing you’re sure of. You want to know how his hands feel on you, how they would run over your bare skin, what the callouses on his fingers would feel like on the most delicate and sensitive parts of your body. Your imagination leaps ahead of you, guiding your own hand down into your shorts and under the band of your panties. You tease yourself, just dipping your fingers into the wet heat, trailing them over your clit like a hint to yourself, coaxing your arousal out of your panic.

His hands would feel different. When you rub your index finger over your clit, you imagine his finger instead, pressing gently against you, building up friction slowly, making you ache. You wonder if he’d savor your reactions, watching you get worked up, grinding against his hand to seek any kind of relief.

“Easy, Ladybird,” you imagine him saying, the nickname now a tease. And he’d know your real name, the one hidden away in your file. He’d whisper it into your ear, breath hot on your neck, his whole body eclipsing yours.

Your pace quickens, fingers running urgently between your clit and opening, causing your core to tighten and your breath to come in short gasps and barely-concealed moans. Ghost would tell you to let them out, let the whole damn base hear how aroused he makes you, how badly you’ve wanted him.

You breathe his name into the small space of your room, a whisper in the still air broken only by the low hum of the forced air in the vents. When you finally plunge your fingers in, it takes every bit of self-control not to outright moan and let everyone nearby know what you’re doing. Normally, you can stay quiet when you get yourself off, but you’re damn near frantic with this, whatever it is Ghost has done to you.

His fingers in you, fucking you in long, languid strokes, drawing himself out and pushing back in—all the while, watching your reactions. When you rock your hips to the pace of your hand, you imagine his voice again, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand. Let me see you.”

You’d show him. Hell, you’d soak his hand, and it would remind him that it’s his fault you’re like this.

The wet sounds of your hand on your cunt is lewd and loud. It’s almost too much, enough to make you stop at the apex of your pleasure, to hide yourself under the blankets in shame and pretend that none of this happened.

But the vision of Ghost keeps you going, keeps your fingers moving in and out, crooking them inside and forcing out a gasp as a white-hot shock of pleasure lances up your spine and settles warm in your belly. The pad of your thumb presses against your clit, and you multitask on yourself, building up that friction, bringing yourself to the precipice.

He’d take you there. He might even pull you back from the edge over and over, teasing you with the fall.

“Do you want it? How bad? Show me.”

God, you would. Any way he wanted, you would show him. You’d beg and plead if that’s what got him to finally make you come.

So you whisper, “Please,” into the night, to a man who is never going to be in your bed, never going to touch you like this, never going to see your pleasure through to the end. The Ghost in your imagination has to stay there, behind locked doors and bulkheads, secured and contained for good.

But until then, you chase your orgasm with him, hitting that divine height and going into a freefall. Blood rushes in your ears, muscles twitching, heart racing. Your head comes off the pillow, back arching, toes digging into the mattress, mouth open on a moan that you refuse to let loose. You come way harder than you ever have using your own hand, enough that when you finally lower yourself back onto the bed, you grimace at the feeling of a wet patch on the sheets.

“Fuck,” you say, very emphatically. To yourself, to Ghost, to the whole damn situation.

Groaning, you reach over and grab the towel, wiping your hand and tucking it under your ass before rolling onto your back again and wondering what the hell you’re going to do.

---

You’re going to hide from Ghost, that’s what.

Captain Price gives the team a few days off to rest up for the next mission, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to spend every second off base, as far away from the barracks as you can get. You’ll get a hotel, order a ridiculously expensive amount of room service, and marinate in your feelings for a couple days until it’s all out of your system. Maybe you’ll go to a bar or coffee shop and chat up some nice person who isn’t a tall, broad, terrifying British soldier. And maybe you’ll have a night of incredible passion and twisted sheets, and it’ll be so cathartic that when you come back to base, you’ll be a whole new person.

That plan holds until your phone goes off while you’re packing up.

It’s a text from Soap: ‘wyd?’

‘Going off radar for a couple days. Why?’

He sends a sad emoji, then two beer glasses clinking together, a soccer ball, and then a big red question mark. Apparently, Soap only knows how to speak in hieroglyphs.

You smile, and type back, ‘Sorry, need to go clear my head.’

Skull emoji. Question mark.

‘None of your beeswax,’ you send, followed by the soap emoji.

‘that sucks,’ he types back. There’s a short pause, and then he types again. ‘cause he was looking for u earlier’

Your heart damn near comes to a stop, and you very hesitantly respond, ‘Why?’

‘idk. think he wanted to ask u smth’

Nope. You’re not taking the bait. If Ghost wants to talk to you, he can come right up and—and you can walk off in the opposite direction and act like there’s something incredibly interesting that you need to see right that second.

You type a few variations of ‘Then he can come and talk to me himself,’ but none of them sound particularly nice. Ghost hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to act like he has. And for that matter, you’re supposed to be hiding from Ghost, not encouraging him to find you. Instead, you send back a clipped, ‘Okay.’

Nothing.

For one hopeful second, you think Soap’s mercifully let the conversation go, allowing you to go in peace to your nice hotel and your overpriced room service food.

Instead, you get the sunglasses emoji, a wink face, and, ‘k i told him to come see u’.

‘WHAT’

The only response is the skull and the little running cloud dash emoji, suggesting that Ghost is making a beeline right to your room. Panic seizes you and you fling your phone on your bed like somehow it’s going to help. It bounces harmlessly, then lands screen up, emojis taunting you.

Quickly, you start shoving the rest of your clothes and toiletries in your bag without a care as to where everything goes, eager to book it out of there as fast as your legs can take you. Once your bag is zipped up and thrown over your shoulder, you think you might be in the clear. Mission nearly accomplished.

Nearly.

Two solid knocks on your door almost make you hit the ceiling. You hold still, using that Jurassic Park wisdom again: if you don’t move, he can’t see you.

That applies to fictional dinosaurs, not trained killers, and certainly not Ghost. He knocks again, then follows it up with, “Ladybird, it’s me.”

Yeah, you know. That’s the problem.

Briefly, you consider going out the window, shimmying out and potentially getting caught on a base security camera for someone to laugh at later. That doesn’t make the problem go away, though.

You can just tell him you’re in a hurry, that your ride is at the gate right now and you don’t want to keep them waiting. Whatever conversation he wants to have, it’ll have to wait until you get back. It’s a good response. Solid. Foolproof.

And it dissolves the second you open the door.

He’s there, not vanished in the disappearing act you were hoping for, and all that want flares up again the moment you see him. He’s in casual dress like what he wore to the club—boots, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, balaclava. His posture’s more relaxed, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other hanging at his side. You meet his eyes, and your regret mixes with desire welling up inside you.

It’s that intense gaze from the helo, the brief but incendiary look from Berlin, the thoughtful gaze from the gym. You’re drawn up in it immediately, and this time, there’s no possibility of looking away. Ghost has you locked in.

He takes in the sight of you, dressed in your civvies, backpack on your shoulders, and raises his brows. “Going somewhere?”

Your mouth is cotton-dry, and you’re proud of yourself for putting a little syntax together. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m headed out.”

Right now, you should say. I’m going out right this second and I cannot be stopped. Do not engage.

But you don’t say that. You leave the words as they are, hanging between the two of you. In that moment, you’re two opposing fronts of contradictions—you want him to go, stay, talk, stay silent, touch you, leave you alone.

Ghost seems to sense this, that you’re not making any move to either speak to him or push him away. He doesn’t get into your space, staying right where he is while looking at you with his head slightly tilted. “Can I come in a sec?”

No. “Yes.” Please.

You take a step back, allowing him to walk into your room. His presence seems to fill it, like there’s too much of him and too little space to contain it. He closes the door behind himself, then finds a spot against the wall (the rare section that isn’t covered by posters or mementos) and leans against it. Still, still giving you your space.

You’re all nerves, waiting for him to speak, yet feeling like you should say something—to get all your feelings out in the open, exposed and waiting for him to pick over and do with what he will. But your anxiety and silence wins out, and instead you fidget, trying to find a point in the room to fix your gaze. Ghost takes all your attention though, holding it in a firm, invisible grip that can’t be broken no matter what you do. You get now, more than ever, why people are so scared of him when they end up at the wrong end of his skill set—he immobilizes them, rendering them completely unable to do a damn thing.

He watches you for an agonizingly long moment, then sighs. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy, but Soap said you were around,” he says. Ghost doesn’t trail off or leave a space in his words for you to fill in the blanks. It’s a good thing—no place for you to misinterpret him—but it suddenly leaves you terrified at the possibility of what he’s going to say.

“Just for a little bit,” you hear yourself say, voice subdued and small.

He nods. “Then I’ll just get it out now before you go. More or less a question.”

Fuck. You feel a strange, uncomfortably cold sensation curl up tight and tense in your stomach. The feeling of standing at the edge of a long drop, knowing you have no choice but to let go.

His eyes are locked on yours, unrelenting, pinning. And then he says, “Do you have feelings for me?”

Right. No way to misinterpret.

You suck in a breath—a gasp, jerking at the question even though you knew it was coming.

You could lie. It’d be easy to do, just a few movements of tongue, jaw, and lips. No, I don’t. Three easy words. You could say you appreciate him as a teammate, as a professional, as someone you can trust in tough situations. He has your back; you have his. Anything beyond that is too much, to far outside of the commanding officer-subordinate hierarchy.

But you can’t lie to him. He’ll know. He’s trained in looking for tells, for the slightest quirk to denote that you’re holding back the truth. That, and you don’t want to lie to him.

Instead, quietly, you say, “Yes,” and inwardly brace for impact. Any kind of dressing-down from your C.O. and reminder of responsibilities and duties; or on a personal level, that Ghost doesn’t do relationships. You’re tensed up, waiting for its inevitable blow and all the shrapnel that’s definitely going to land right in your heart.

“Oh,” he says.

Oh.

Just one syllable, said deceptively, uncharacteristically soft. It belies so many things—possibilities, dangers. This man is fucking complicated.

And then he takes a step toward you. Just one. Just enough to close the gap that many inches. You don’t back up, but you’re too afraid to walk to him, unsure of what’s coming next.

He’s looking down at you, gaze passive, calm, and strangely open. You’ve learned new and interesting ways to read his eyes since you fell for him, but this one has an unknown definition, a kinesic oddity that you can’t translate.

And for a moment, you let yourself hope.

Then, he says your name. Not Ladybird. Not your rank. Your name. The sound of it is a rush in your ears, in your whole head, through every artery, vein, and capillary. He takes another step, slower than the first, drawing in closer before he says, “Do you want this?”

You nod. There’s nothing else you can do. You take a step toward him, looking up into his eyes and trying to read everything there. “Do you?” you ask. You’re still waiting for the rejection, as though Ghost is the type of person to lure you in only to shut you down.

Rejection doesn’t come. Instead, he steps forward to close the gap, one of his hands finding your waist.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

Holy shit.

You stare at him in surprise, and the look on your face must be ridiculously easy to read. His other hand goes up under your chin, tilting your face toward him. The touch of his fingers is exactly like you imagined, the callouses on his thumb brushing over the soft skin underneath your jaw, causing you to shiver.

Ghost leans in close to your left side, skull’s grin close to your ear, and whispers, “Thought you hated me. Every time I looked at you, you’d look away.”

A near-hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat, and comes out as a compressed, breathless giggle. All that time, you were so hopelessly in love with him, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like your heart was about to give out; and he interpreted that as dislike.

“God, no,” you say. “Total opposite.”

He laughs in your ear, and the sound chases out the remainder of that cold tension, replacing it with a newfound heat that feels good. “Wish I’d known sooner,” he says, and one of his hands goes up to push a strap of your backpack off your shoulder.

You ease out of it, dropping it to the floor, before reaching out and tentatively touching his waist in return. Through the fabric of his hoodie, you can feel how solid he is underneath, and you run your hand along his side in silent wonder.

Ghost moves back suddenly, and you only have a second to question why before the light goes out, leaving you in muted darkness permeated only by the bare sliver of sunlight filtering through your curtain. One hand finds your waist again, pulling you close, walking you toward your bed.

All you can think is no fucking way over and over, even as the back of your legs hit the side of the bed, and Ghost is lowering you down. Your back touches the mattress, head on the pillow, and Ghost is over the top of you, his hands bracketing your head. He looks down at you, mostly in shadow, only the bright white of the skull motif visible in the darkness. Then, his eyes flicker to his left, and he abruptly snorts.

You furrow your brow. “What?”

Wordlessly, his hand moves to the right of your head, and he picks up your phone.

Your phone which is still on, showing the emoji-heavy conversation with Soap. Ghost flips the phone to show you the last text he sent.

Skull emoji, kiss, black heart, red heart, ladybug, eggplant, peach, confetti ball, birthday cake.

“What the fuck, Soap?” you say under your breath, grabbing the phone from Ghost. You quickly turn it off and shove it onto your bedside table, groaning in embarrassment.

Ghost shakes his head, and unlike Soap, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he brings the situation right back on the rails with one hand going up under your shirt. Then, he says, “Close your eyes a second.”

You do, without question. You hear a faint rustle of fabric, and then his lips press against yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and that thrill you felt at hearing your name seems to rush back through you twofold at the thought that he took his mask off for you. He kisses you firmly, a guarantee that this is what he wants. You reach up with one hand, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp and drawing out a quiet groan. He smells like standard-issue soap and laundry detergent, and the faint spice of cologne only just clinging to his skin. The feeling of kissing him is dizzying, entrancing, and the sound of it just hammers home that this is happening to you, in your room, with him.

He pulls back just a little, kissing a trail from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, then your jaw, and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver again, arching up into him involuntarily. You hear and feel an amused huff of breath, before he says, “What do you want?”

Good god, what don’t you want?

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Anything. Whatever you want.”

He nods against your neck, then tilts his head up to press a kiss to your temple. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s something you don’t like. Communicate.”

You grin, mostly at the sotto voce version of his command voice. “Yes, sir.”

He huffs a laugh and continues kissing down your neck, down to the hemline of your shirt. Undressing comes as an easy next step, shoes off first (and they were on the bed, ugh), and then Ghost pulls your shirt up; you lift yourself enough to help him pull it over your head. In the darkness, he does the same, and you watch his silhouette remove his hoodie, then pull his shirt over his head and drop it off the side of the bed. You can’t see his face, but the faint beam of sunlight touches his hair and brings out a hint of pale gold. It feels like a secret shared between you, adding to that warmth building up inside.

He leans back down, kissing down your sternum to the upper hem of your sports bra. He starts to go lower, and you decide then that you’d like to take at least a little initiative.

“Wait,” you whisper. “Come back up here.”

He does, like he’s accustomed to obeying your orders rather than the other way around. You reach up and touch his chest, eager to feel this part of him, the one he typically buries under layers of clothing and gear. He sighs at your touch, head dropping down to rest on the pillow beside you.

He’s firm and toned with well-honed muscle earned through endless missions and exercise. At the same time, the skin of his chest is surprisingly soft—even the scattered network of scars and keloids that mark his body. You feel old and new wounds, some still raised as they heal, some concave with age. They’re long, short, thick, thin, orderly, and jagged. Starbursts of bullet wounds, hard lines of cuts, spatters of shrapnel, textured lines of old stitches. His whole torso tells a long, tragic story from cover to cover, chest to back.

But he leans into this read of him, letting you feel every scar, every painful moment. His breathing is steady in your ear, giving way to the occasional sigh as your fingers trail over his skin.

In turn, he touches you. You don’t have even a fraction of his scars, but you have a few he can note. You know when he touches them, by the way his touch lingers, learning each one. It feels reverential, or communal—the two of you engaging in a silent trust exercise. He doesn’t ask about them, and neither do you. All of that is for another time.

Ghost presses a kiss to your shoulder, then pushes up until he’s over top of you again. His free hand goes down to the waistline of your jeans, finger tracing teasingly over the zipper. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. As if you’d say anything else.

He undoes the button, then the zipper, slowly pulling your jeans to your hips, then removing them entirely. He sits up on the edge of the bed for a moment, removing his boots, then his jeans. You lay there, watching him move, feeling your arousal start to grow and burn like a low flame.

When he touches you again, you silently agree that you wish you’d said or done something sooner. It’s bliss. He’s gentle with you, mindful even, in a way you’ve never experienced or anticipated from someone like him. He helps you out of your bra, letting you pull it all the way off before his hands palm your breasts in slow, deliberate movements. It’s an extension of his exploratory touches, learning your body inch by inch.

Your breathing quickens, and Ghost looks up at you in what you guess is concern. “Doing alright?” he asks.

Your face grows hot, and you nod, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”

It’s not like you haven’t had sex before, but sex with him feels completely different, like it doesn’t belong in the same category. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, or had someone respond to you like this. It’s almost overwhelming, but Ghost reaches up and combs some of your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Lie back a bit,” he instructs. “And tell me if you need me to stop.”

You do as he says, leaning up against the pillows as he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso to your hips. He’s a shadow moving over you, long and languid, and every touch just adds to the mounting heat. When his fingers touch the hem of your underwear, you shiver in anticipation, then arch your hips to give him a little leverage in removing them. In one motion, you’re exposed to him, even in the dark. Yet after touching him, and him touching you, you don’t feel as vulnerable. If anything, this feels safe. This feels right.

His hands go to your hips, then run slowly along the outer sides of your thighs. You think he might fulfill that fantasy from earlier, fingering you until you’re a mess, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure with his skilled hands.

Which is why it surprises the hell out of you when he goes lower, until his head is between your thighs, sunlight leaving gold stripes along his back.

“Ghost,” you gasp.

He looks up at you, and now more than ever, you wish you could see his face. You only see the faint shine of his eyes, but at that moment, it’s enough.

Then he spreads you, and licks a stripe from your opening to your clit.

If you were entertaining any thoughts before, any fantasies carefully curated in those rare hours of alone time, they flee in that single movement. Even the Ghost of your imagination never did this, tasting and savoring you in long, slow laps that make your whole brain short out like a blown fuse. The sound is goddamn obscene, especially as he leans in close and starts to lap at your clit. It’s a shock of sound in the silence, louder than even your own noises when you got yourself off.

Your right hand finds his head, fingers running through his hair as he licks you. He alternates between short laps and long strokes, tongue circling around your clit, teasing you, making you shudder and moan. It’s frustrating and fucking heavenly, the sensation of ebb and flow, receding and rushing waves of heat building up then flowing back.

Right when you think you can’t take the teasing anymore, he switches tactics. The teasing abruptly ends, and Ghost gets relentless.

You moan way too loud when he sucks at your clit, tongue swirling around it, the sound of his mouth on you loud as a gunshot. You swear they have to hear it down the hallway, or anywhere on base. At this point, though, you really don’t care who hears you, because they don’t have Ghost between their legs, getting them off in ways no deity ever intended.

Then his fingers join his mouth, index tracing circles around your entrance, dipping in slowly, tauntingly.

“Fuck.” The word is sharp in the air, as you arch at the sensation.

It’s too much; it’s not enough.

He tilts his head up a little, but when he speaks, you feel his warm breath ghost over your sex. “Let me hear you,” he says, words drawn straight out of your fantasies. Every door containing that imaginary version of Ghost is unlocked, every bulkhead breached—that Ghost and this one are one in the same.

And when he pushes that first finger into you, you follow his order to the letter.

It comes out as a broken wail, cut off when he starts thrusting and licking you in alternate strokes. His pace quickens, merciless, sharp eyes watching you from the shadows as your head rolls back on the pillow, chest heaving to catch a single solid breath. Your hands drop to your sides, fisting the sheets just to have something to hang onto, any kind of anchor as Ghost guides you through a tempest.

You moan his name, last consonant catching on a sob of pleasure when he starts to add a second finger. Only then does he pause, and the absence of his mouth is stark.

Then he says your name, temporarily drawing you out of the cumulonimbus of arousal you’re flying through, briefly bringing you back to earth.

You look down at him, the silhouette of his head, small locks of hair sticking up from where your fingers combed through. You see him tilt his head to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, and his voice rolls out like a dull roar of thunder in your ears. “It’s Simon,” he says. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, hearing his real name in the midst of all this is almost too much. Like the last little vestige of a play on stage falling away and revealing the inner workings of the backstage, all the ropes and pullies holding the show together. He’s more exposed now, more raw, more human.

You reach down, trembling hand brushing over his cheek, over stubble and scar tissue, and the soft skin of a very real face.

“Simon,” you whisper. It sounds like a confession.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel him smile against your hand, briefly turning his head to press a kiss against your palm. Then he’s lowering himself down again, coaxing you out of the eye of the storm and back into the maelstrom. Two fingers thrust and curl, filling you, leaving you empty, touching places that send bolts of pleasure through you.

Your pulse becomes the thunder of the helo’s blades, your body trembling with midair turbulence. Simon fucks you on his fingers, tongue lathing over your clit, mouth fucking worshiping you. He takes you to that precipice, the long fall, the drop through cloud cover to a faintly-marked point on the earth.

The step off the edge feels like perfect, natural progression.

Your orgasm sweeps through you from toe to tip, a roll of white-out pleasure shaking you, wringing a cry out of your mouth that makes Simon fuck you harder. His fingers don’t let up, working you through the tidal wave, taking you to shore on the other side.

You’re boneless at the end, slumping back on the pillow and panting, shivering, taking stock of your limbs and extremities as they each come back online after the outage. You only vaguely register the feeling of Simon moving on the bed, coming up to lay beside you.

He murmurs your name, then kisses you, and you can smell and taste yourself on him. Your hand goes up to run along his jawline, one rogue thought telling you, yeah, you can cut glass with it.

How everything gets so gentle afterwards is beyond you. Simon’s hand is on your face, thumb brushing the soft skin under your right eye. You can feel his erection against your leg, and somewhere in the back of your mind—still tingling with pleasure, shimmering bright and brilliant—you know how you’re going to take initiative.

You break the kiss just for a moment, delighting in the soft sigh of protest you hear and feel against your cheek. Then you lean in close, pitching your voice low like his, hoping it has the same effect on him.

“Hope you don’t have any plans this weekend,” you say, brushing your hand over his shoulder.

You feel him smile against your skin, and he shakes his head.

“Thought you were heading out,” he says.

“Only if you’re going with me.”

One arm goes around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles against your neck. “We have some time, though, right?” his voice slides over you, suggestion clear and presented like a gift.

God, yeah you do.

---

Somewhere in between rounds, your phone goes off on your bedside stand.

Once.

Twice.

You don’t hear it, and the short buzz is drowned out by moans and the soft slap of skin on skin. When Simon makes a move like he’s going to check on it, you hook him back in place with your leg around his waist, pulling him in close, then kissing him silent. He falls into it, all too happy to oblige.

So you miss the skull and ladybug emojis, then the volume symbol.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #em dash and italics party is here to staaaay #can you believe this was going to be longer #am i super happy with it? not totally but it was p fun

3K notes · View notes

elysian-i · 2 years

Text

Priorities

Summary: The reader is basically a horny fuck, her boyfriends been a bit too busy all day & she finally decides to go to him to take care of her problem. (i am an expert at summaries aren't i?💀)

Warnings: Smut :3. Soft fluffy smut, fingering, maybe a small bit of dom/sub? It's pretty vanilla mostly.

a/n: uhm yeah so, hi after idk how many months 💀 this might not be my best work since i haven't written in a long time so keep that in mind. ill try and get back to that kinky shit soon tho. inspired by this request.

NAVIGATION

–––––––

Aching, rotting, coveting.

It had been a day, ever since morning started, and you opened your eyes to empty bedsheets and a note scribbled beside your pillow, and a yearning left to rot in you for the rest of the day.

It wasn't too much to ask for your boyfriend to take you in the morning and just give you a productive start for the day right? It wasn't ‘needy’ just a mere necessity.

His stupid fucking note and the even stupider sentences written on it.

“I have quidditch practice today, I won't be able to meet you for the rest of the day.”

-Love, Draco.

Stupid, stupid note and an even more stupid burn in your lower abdomen.

So, for the rest of the horrible day, you went around classes, ate in some, slept in some, studied in some, and missed Draco in all of them.

You missed his hands, and the way they'd intertwine with yours, his kisses on your face, his taunting deep voice— oh god, that voice.

That dreamy deep, beautiful, incredibly arousing voice. The way he'd speak in low whispers as he'd press you down on the bed, and kiss along your naked body, and make promises and love.

His lean body, above yours, meeting your eyes, his hair falling over him temples as he pumps in and out of you, over and over and over.

Shit.

You should not be fucking having sexual fantasies about Draco in Charms class.

You hadn't even seen his face in the morning, not even kissed him.

And just, fuck this shit. Because, if you needed Draco, then you would have him, and he would give himself over to you, because your trusted he would.

He was yours, of course he would take care of you.

—

“Uh, Draco?” you said, calling out to him in the locker room. You'd seen him come inside, so surely he'd just be around somewhere.

“Sweetheart?” he said, puzzled. He paused. Stared at you for a moment, then dropped his kit on a bench.

Then you wanted to run back to the castle because he was probably not happy to see you here, he'd been busy all day and now he had to deal with you and—

All of those insecurities got shoved aside as he smiled— warmly— and started to walk over to you.

Two large hands wrapped around you, and tugged you towards him, burying you in his chest and kissing your forehead lovingly.

“Hi” he grinned, looking down at you. You smiled back, reached up and kissed him, hard. There was no point in hiding your want, so you just laid it out.

As though you were a clear parchment and he were the ink which spilled over it.

“Missed you— I missed you so much” you muttered, pulling away, and looking away from his eyes. “I can see that” he laughs, kissing your temple now.

You kissed him again on the mouth, pressing his hard, hot body right against your own. Feeling his skin and then feeling yourself starting to throb even harder.

The way his hair was messy and fell over his forehead, his shirt tight around his muscles. Just— so perfect.

One of his hands found your waist, balancing you, the other in your hair, tugging as your pressed your tongue in his mouth and deepened the kiss— you felt him smirk as you were kissing.

He pulled back after a moment, panting a little, and wickedly smirking.

“Well wow— you're something else today aren't you?” He ran a lanky— veiny— hand through his hair and smiled.

“I just.. need you” you said plainly.

“Need me? How so?” he raised a brow, and reached his hand down to your hip, squeezing hard until you gasped.

He kissed down your neck, and slid his hand into your shirt. “How do you need me, love?”

“Just— please, you know where. But if you're busy then—”

“I'm never busy for you, you're my priority sweetheart”

And that, really had you going. The affirmation, the slight teasing.

“I can't give you what you want unless you tell me”

You glared mildly at him, then grabbed his hand from your hip, and pressed it firmly— between your thighs.

He gasped as he felt you, throbbing, and slick even through the cotton of your panties. He moved his thumb to the apex of it, putting pressure there and licking at your throat now.

He grabbed you by your waist, and pulled you up on a counter. The pulled away only for a moment to put privacy charms around the locker room.

He said nothing, just unbuttoned your blouse, shoved your bra down, pulled your skirt up your hips, parted your thighs and stood between them.

“Pretty” he said to no one but himself, kissed you cheek and pulled your panties to the side. His fingers rubbed a circle around your clit, his eyes— avid, and fixed on the way his hand worked on your cunt.

He kissed along your breast, “This is where you needed it right?” he said, in a low voice, staring into your eyes as he ran a finger along your slit.

“I— yes” you nod, and arch into his fingers. His left hand cups your ass, not at all gently, and he taps his finger at your entrance.

Your legs involuntary part even more, offering yourself to him, he groans at that, and then pushes his finger deep inside until your head falls into the mirror behind you.

He's quick to pull out his finger and shove it back inside. His eyes seemed to have turned black now.

He wrapped his mouth around your nipple, his warm wet mouth, working around it as he pumped his finger.

“Fuck, look at that” he said, looking at the way you fell apart on his finger as he pushed another one inside. Working his hand so so perfectly— grunting at the sight and the sounds.

When his finger pumped harder, and then curled, you left out a whimper, a really loud one at that, and he smirked at it.

He was fucking you hard, taking no pause to give you what you wanted, thrusting his fingers until your thighs started shaking and he could only stare the whispering mess you were.

You gripped his shoulder, hard, pressed nails into him.

“I love how you trust me” he spoke, resting his forehead against yours as he kept fingering you. “My pretty angel just know when to come to me, don't you”

You nodded several times, “Yes, I— I trust you” you sobbed, trying to finally— finally sort out the rot which had been killing you all day.

“Fuck, Draco!” you gasped, and with that, you came. Clenching around his fingers, your legs shaking and your breaths shaky and loud.

Draco seemed to exhale in satisfaction, as if this gave him more pleasure than it did you.

“Was that good for you?” he asked, grinning as he pulled his fingers out and pressed then to his mouth, feeling you on his tongue.

You smiled, “So good”

———

(follow @spilled-inks to be notified of my works :))

3K notes · View notes

gavisfanta · 2 months

Note

You know maybe like a thing where the girl and Pedri have broken up years ago and they see each other years later and haven't been able to move on so they have this angsty, blame game type sex? Like you get what I mean right? You know sort of relapse or similar concept

COMEBACK - PEDRI

summary: you and Pedri were meant to be... but were you really?

warnings: smut

August 2018

"Oh, how I love you." Pedri wrapped his arm around your neck and then leaned in for a kiss. His lips were soft on yours while you just couldn't help but smile into the kiss.

"I love you too." You whispered at him while he was still holding your head close to his. Pedri just finished his game for Las Palmas and you surprised him, originally you said that you couldn't go because you had to study but that was just for the surprise.

So after the game ended Pedri immediately ran over to you as you walked down to the bench. Your dad was best friends with the owner of Las Palmas, Jose.

That just meant for you that you were allowed to sit behind the bench every game and also knew a lot of things about the club.

"What do you say to coming over to my place? My parents are in Spain, I have the house all to myself." You smiled as Pedri and you walked down into the tunnel side by side. A wide smile plastered across his face, he was still so happy about you being there.

"I'd love to, wait outside for me." Pedri told you and pulled you in for one final kiss before he left to go and change.

A team mate who just followed him, flashed you a smile and you smiled back at him. Everyone at the club knew about your dad and you, you were there to watch every game you could.

So after you arrived at your house, Pedri and you went inside. He at first put his things down by his shoes and then he walked over to you.

You and Pedri have been dating for about 1 year, when you were 15 he asked you to be his girlfriend. The past few weeks in the relationship, you two have been very touchy with each other, kissing or cuddling the whole time.

It was pretty obvious that you two were still virgins and both of you knew exactly what was gonna happen when Pedri stepped foot into your house today.

So you and he walked upstairs quickly, Pedri admired your house, it was huge and it was pretty obvious that your parents had a shit ton of money.

"Um Pedri" You began the awkward talk as soon as you two arrived in your room. "I was thinking that maybe we could-" You tried to say but he cut you off.

"Sleep with each other?" Pedri almost read your thoughts and you were kinda thankful that you didn't have to say it. So you bit your lower lip and nodded your head up and down slowly.

"Are you really okay with it tho?" Pedri asked you, the butterflies in your stomach just kept growing when you realized that he cared for you.

"I'm okay, I want you to be my first time." You leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss on his lips. He then walked over to the bed and told you to lay down on it. You did as he said and then you two were making out again.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Pedri asked again as he sat up and started to pull down your shorts, slowly. You looked at his fingers which were lightly touching your skin. You shivered at the thought of having him inside of you.

Pedri then also proceeded to lift up your shirt until you pulled it off completely. He has seen you in your underwear before so this wasn't really a big deal.

That was until you two were in only your underwear, Pedris body on yours and your lips crashing into each other at a rapid speed.

Sweet moans were heard coming from Pedri's mouth as you ran your fingers down his abs and he immediately put his hands behind your back.

He unclipped your bra and slowly pulled it off your arms. That left you exposed with only your panties on, and as Pedri was staring for a few seconds, mouth hanging open slightly, you covered yourself with your arms.

"No don't do that," Pedri leaned down to kiss your stomach and then kissed his way up until your breasts. "You're beautiful." Pedri looked up at you from between your breasts and that sight made you squeeze your legs together.

He then took off your panties slowly and then slid off his boxershorts without moving his gaze away from your clit.

"Are you sure? You can say stop any time." Pedri looked up at you while he aligned himself with you. You nodded your head as you bit your lower lip and then seconds later you felt him slowly entering you.

Low whimpers came from your mouth as you felt, so, so, full. Every single vein on his dick, every single thing was felt.

And god you even felt your walls stretching out to his size. Pedri groaned as he was now fully inside of you, he looked at you for a conformation that you were alright.

"You can start moving." You mumbled.

He started to pull himself out and then push his dick inside again. You arched your back as you clenched around him, his pace sped up little by little and your moans became louder.

"Fuck you're so tight." Pedri groaned as he kept thrusting into you, you put your hand on his bicep and then kissed his shoulder.

He looked so attractive, his whole body sweaty and his hair wet, sticking to his forehead.

"You feel so good, clenching around me like that. Fuck you're gonna make me cum." Pedri against the crook of your neck, those words sent literal shockwaves down to your clit as he kept pounding into you.

Suddenly all the noise of the headboard slamming against the wall, the noises outside of the open tilted window, the noises of the air conditioner, everything stopped.

There were only the fast breaths of Pedri and your moans as you felt that warm knot in your stomach get tighter.

Your whole body ached as you arched up against him. His sweaty body sticking to yours and you feeling even tighter around his dick.

In that second, you felt like you exploded, your legs began to tremble, your eyes locked shut, you bit into your lip so hard that you tasted blood, Pedri's cum filling you up to the very brim.

His warm breath against your neck as you both were left breathing heavily. Your body felt hot, your legs trembling as he laid down on top of you between them, your hands carefully pushing back the black, soft locks of his hair.

"I love you so much." Pedri's words were just above a whisper as you felt his hot breath against your sweaty skin. Your eyes were strongly fixated on the ceiling and your lower lip was bleeding when you smiled.

"I love you even more."

Pedri pressed a few sloppy kisses wherever he could reach. In that exact moment of him laying on top of you, naked, his cum dripping out of your pussy and his hair messy, he swore to himself that he was gonna stay with you forever.

"Are you up for a shower?" He lifted his head, draining his own thoughts as no matter what he was thinking of, there was always you. You in real life, creating new memories for him to think of later.

"Yeah, you might need to help me tho" Pedri was already standing up on his knees while still on the bed when you told him that. "I'm not sure if I can walk." A sly smile was covering your lips as he then wrapped his arms around your body and lifted you up.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his torso and you clang onto his neck until he walked into your bathroom and sat you down next to the sink on the counter.

The young midfielder stood between your legs and put his hands on your hips, his brown eyes looking up so desperately to yours while you two were still naked, on full display for each other to see.

You leaned closer to him, catching his lips in a long and passionate kiss while your hands wrapped around his neck even tighter.

"I love you so much, you don't even know." Pedri whispered in between kisses, he felt the blood on your lower lips, the sweet but bitter taste every time he ran his lips over yours.

Many people would have called it disgusting, for Pedri it was something that he couldn't explain. You were in a vulnerable state right now and you let him close to you, you let him touch, taste and feel you.

Eventually, you two made it into the shower where you still couldn't take your hands off of each other. You still somehow managed to then get out and move back to your cold and lonely bed.

Pedri cuddled up behind you as he was showering your neck with kisses.

"How do you feel?" Pedri's soft words broke the silence in the room.

"I feel amazing." You spoke only the truth, what was there more to want when the man of your dreams was literally right next to you. "and you amor?"

"I've never would have imagined this moment to be so perfect." His words made you smile. And you kept smiling all those hours you spent talking until it was deep into the night, when he finally sealed the eventful day with a kiss and told you a quick goodnight.

"Which ones?" Pedri picked two Plan B pills up from the shelves and turned to look at you. You only shrugged your shoulders as you anxiously looked around.

Living on an island was hell, especially because everyone knew each other and gossip spread like a plague.

"I don't know just choose one." You whispered over to him and Pedri dropped his shoulders while he gave you an annoyed look.

"Are you so ashamed of the fact that we had sex?" He continued to read the back of the boxes containing the plan b pills.

"Pedri, I don't really want your grandma to find out that we have sex, and you know she's gonna find out if anyone sees you with those damn pills in your hands." You told him with all honesty and Pedri looked up at you, his head still tilted downwards.

"Babe, either we buy one of these or we avoid being seen with plan b pills, but there is a chance that you get pregnant and everyone is gonna find out anyways." Pedri then grabbed one and put it back onto the shelf while your eyes widened.

"Yeah let's just go and pay." You put your hands on either side of his hips and pushed him to the checkout.

An elderly lady was sitting behind the table and Pedri put down the pills in front of her.

She typed in something into her machine while you felt like you wanted to die, why did this take so long?

"2,42 please." The woman told Pedri and he showed her his card with a small smile. She nodded her head as she put the machine in front of him, and after he paid you walked out immediately.

"Fuck she knows my mom" You covered your face with your hands as Pedri kissed your temple while you two made your way back to your house.

"Did she?" Pedri put the box of pills into his pocket and then grabbed your hand to interlock his fingers with yours.

"I don't know- she probably did." You whined while you threw your head back and Pedri laughed at you.

"Pedriii" You kept on whining as you buried your face in his shoulder. After he tried to calm you down the entire walk back to your house you finally arrived back at home.

"So, take one." Pedri tapped the box with his finger as he was sitting on a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island.

"I'm scared" You put down the glass of water in front of you while Pedri gave you a pill. "We should have used a condom."

"No we shouldn't have, it's fine Amor, it won't do anything, it's just hormones." Pedri stood up and walked over to you, he began to rub his hand up and down your back.

"Explain what they do so I'm less scared."

Pedri chuckled a little bit at your words. "This is progesterone, it's a hormone that women have when they're pregnant. So when you take this-" Pedri points at the pill in your hand. "you'll trick your body into thinking that you are already pregnant. So there's no new ovulation." Pedri's explanation calmed you down a bit and without saying anything you swallowed the pill.

"You're really good at explaining." You praised him, Pedri just shrugged his shoulders with a huge smile.

"I know I'm amazing."

"Cariño, ¿qué es eso?" Your mother hurried over to you to hug you, Pedri's presence didn't go unnoticed by her since she hugged him first.

"What?" You asked while she ran her thumb across your bruised lip.

"Pedri I told you not to bite too hard." Your dad joked as he walked into the hallway too and then dabbed up Pedri. Your boyfriend's face was covered by a smile as he looked at your father.

"It wasn't me this time." The young midfielder pushed his hair to the side and your dad chuckled.

"Did you hear that? This time. These teenagers." Your dad nudged your mom a bit by her shoulder and then walked past the three of you into the kitchen. Luckily you hid the rest of the pills under your bed in a small box so the cleaning lady wouldn't even find it.

Pedri didn't think that your parents would be mad if they found out that you two had sex. He thinks that they would be more mad if they found out that you took the risk and didn't use any protection; which in the end you did.

Meanwhile, you and your mom were still fighting about what happened with your lower lips. Pedri of course knew that you bit onto your lip too hard while you came, but he respected your wish to keep the little intimate session between the two of you private. "Pedro, how did this happen?" Your mom turned to face him.

She always called him Pedro, Pedri's mother told her one time that she should call him that whenever he's in trouble, she just calls him like that the entire time now.

You knew that your mom could never be mad at Pedri, she thought of him as the perfect boyfriend for you. He was building up a football career, was good looking and smart.

"Mom I told you I peeled off too much of the skin." You gave Pedri a look to act along when your mother wasn't focusing on you.

"She's telling the truth," Pedri confirmed. Your mother looked between the two of you with a suspicious stare and then poked Pedri's chest.

"You're a good man, because you lie for her." Pedri looked after her while you shook your head in embarrassment. Your mom kept telling him, it's okay if she tells you that he's a good boyfriend but telling him?

"Let's go upstairs." You nudged Pedri's shoulder and you two quickly went into your room.

"What do you say about driving around the island?" Pedri laid down in the middle of your queen sized bed while you sat onto his waist, his hands running up and down your tighs.

"I love the idea, but you know if we get caught another time without a license you won't be able to have one at all." You poked his chest and then looked down at him.

"But you love driving around" Pedri almost whined.

"Let's just go for a late-night walk instead, what do you think of that idea?" Pedri actually liked your suggestion. He loved spending time with you so he would have agreed to anything.

So there you were walking along the beach with a beautiful sunset displaying above the ocean. Pedri was holding your hand as you walked in the water, the warm, wet sand underneath your feet as your shoes were in your other hand.

The beach was empty, what's really unusual for a Saturday evening.

So after you walked a good while along the beach you sat down in the sand, admiring the dark colors of the sky in front of you and Pedri by your side.

"Where do you want to get married?" Pedri turned to look at you, his breath stopped for a second as he saw you. Your hair a bit messed up because of the wind, one of your eyes closed to avoid the brightness of the sun blinding you, your face covered in the orange- pinkish light coming from the sunset. He lost his words as you looked at him.

"I don't know," You opened your eyes and pushed his hair out of his face a little. "Where would you want to get married?"

Pedri sighed and then looked at the view in front of him. "Probably here, I mean we're gonna move away from here and then these times are all gonna be memories. I feel like we'll think back and be like 'Oh yeah remember when-' and I just think this place is fitting." Pedri explained and you couldn't help but smile.

"We're gonna move to Barcelona together so that you can play for the club, but I think we'll fall in love with the city more than with this island." You spoke openly about your thoughts. Pedri admitted that you were kind of right, his parents never allowed him to leave the Canary Islands but he imagined Barcelona to be wonderful. He would love to experience stepping foot into the city for the first time with you, the first game at the camp nou, his first game at the camp nou. Wherever he imagined himself to go, you were there, always.

March 2019

"I just feel like it doesn't work out anymore." Your words made Pedris stomach drop, his heart pounding hard in his chest and his breathing accelerating slowly.

"What why?" The footballer tried to seek an answer, he wanted to fix things, no. He HAD to fix things. What could have possibly given you the feeling that it wouldn't work out between you two, what did he do wrong?

"You know I cant move away from here yet, and with your move to Barcelona it isn't gonna be easy for us. You're gonna meet new people there, new woman, and then you'll think 'ah fuck i have a girlfriend who i sometimes forget about because she loves so so far away' and then I'll just hold you back and I don't want that." You poured out all your thoughts to him.

"I understand."

January 2022

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" Those words made Pedri shiver. He just started getting close with Gavi so they tried to get to know eachother a bit better.

"Uh" Pedri looked at Gavi who was sitting in the passangers seat before looking back at the road quickly. "No, I havent." Pedri cleared his throat. "What about you?"

"Oh me neither, there was this one girl two years ago, man I wish I would have shot my shot." Gavi explained and Pedri smiled a little.

"You gotta take risks sometimes no?" Gavi scoffed and looked at the plder midfielder driving up to his house.

"Not like you know, have you ever even been in love?" Gavi shot back at Pedri, the canarians lips slwoly curled up into a smile.

"No, never." He mumbled, he could have started crying atthe thought of you not being there with him. He knew that you would've loved Gavi and how direct he is. You two could have been amazing friends.

March 2023

"Oh really?" You smiled as Balde showed you the whole training facilities. He was kne of your first friends in Barcelona and you were so thankful for having him as a friend.

"Ysah, believe it or not." Balde laughed at your question and then kept walking. "So this is where we change." He pushed dosn the doorhandle to the locker room and then closed it again.

"Yeah, so let's do on-" Balde mumbled and started walking into the direction of the training ground but a man came from there. His head tilted downwards as he was looking at his phone. His hair matched his outfit, he was dressed in a black hoodie and joggers.

You knew damn we who it was.

"Hola Pedri." Balde told him with a smile and Pedri finally looked up from his phone.

His gaze at first went to Balde and he smiled immediately. Then he saw you and his smile disappeared, just like yours.

You two kept eye contact while you walked oast eachother. The tension building up as you took a deep breath and then he was out of sight.

Balde on the other hand was confused. "So that was Pedri, he plays in the midfield, he's pretty nice but his ego is way too high." Balde laughed a little. You still felt his eyes burning into your body as you finally walked arpund a corner.

"Ah huh" You avoided eye contact with the defender. The truth is Pedri never spoke about you when he came here. It was always a dream of you two to move here together and he couldn't stand the thought of him being here without you.

Now you were here, did he feel any better? No.

Because now you were here, but not with him.

The only thing that crossed your mind was how much you missed him, his smell, his touch, his smile. Everything about you craved some Pedri.

That was exactly why you did the bold decision to say yes to an invite to Balde.

"You wanna come to the club with me and some of my teammates? Their girlfriends are coming too, maybe you'll make some new friends."

You were stupid, you knew damn well that Pedri would be there, you knew it the second Balde mentioned team mates.

You were right by the way, because as soon as you entered the club your eyes got caught by the canarian midfielder stsring at you, his eyes still looked at you the same. With that adoration, loving and lustful look.

You both knew you couldn't be together, it was a nice teenage romance but it wouldn't have lasted any longer than maybe one more year. You both changed too much, so those brown eyes felt familiar but looked completely different.

"Hey Y/n, come sit down" balde waved you over as soon as he realized that you were there. All he really had to do was follow Pedris gaze. Your chest got tighter and you felt like you could have cried in that moment where you sat down almost in front of Pedri.

"So- she is Mikky, Frenkies girlfriend-" Baldes words got blurred out by the ringing in your ears as Pedri and you held eye contact. It was like your souls were mesting eachother again, hugging and dancing around to be reunited. However your bodies couldn't do anything more than ache as the tension started building up between you two.

Qt this point you couldn't hear the blasting music coming from the speakers anymore, it was like everything was in slow motion. Every single breath you took felt heavy. You looked at his lips, they changed to a darker color, his hair, he wore it longer, his cheek, his face looked more manly, yet his eyes, still the same.

"Hey, are you listening?" Balde eventually nudged your arm and everything sped up again, the blasting music hurt your ears again, people talking around you and the lights shining into your eyes again.

"Hm? Yeah" You turned your upper body to face the defender. He squinted his eyes and he looked like he was about to say something but then changed his mind. Just as you wanted to look back to your ex boyfriend you saw him standing up and leaving the club.

That was the last time you saw Pedri... until the next friday where Raphinha was hosting a party.

You spent that whole afternoon getting ready for that party. No matter how hard you tried telling yourself that you were kver Pedri there was still that small part i side of you that knew you're never gonna get over him.

Pedri wasn't any diffrent, those last 3 years he spent without you were hell. No matter how many models or women he slept with, they weren't you. He tried to look for the same feeling he had when he slept with you or even just touched you, none of them compared. It wasn't just the sex he missed, he missed you, your personality, presence, laugh, everything.

Not a single day has passed where he wished to wake up from that nightmare he was still living in of not having you by his side when he wakes up.

So the second he stepped foot into Raphinhas house, he stayed with the guys for ten minutes before he went to the underground gym Raphinha had. The elevator was the quickest way to access it, so obviously he took the elevator and then walked into the gym, huge mirrors on the wall and fake grass covering the whole floor. He didn't want to turn on the lights so he just sat down next to the wall and pulled out his phone.

Meanwhile you just arrived upstairs, their house was huge, you had to admit, so when everyone was kind of busy with talking, you went to explore the place. At first you looked at the upper three floors and then you pushed the -1 button on the elevator.

The elevator doors slid to the side and you walked into a huge but dark room. You turned on your phone flashlight to look around and to you gasped a bit when you saw a figure sitting next to the wall.

Pedri's eyes scanned your body before he turned his attention back towards his phone.You cleaned your throat and then just as you wanted to turn around Pedri also cleared his throat. You turned off the torch on your phone and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark.

But you saw Pedri clear as day, patting the spot next to him. Legs almost trembling while you made your way over to the canarian and sat down next to him, still keeping a bit of distance between the two of you.

After sitting in silence and in the pitch dark he finally spoke up."So-" He began, his voice cracked. "how's life?"

You kept your gaze strictly on the floor in front of you, not even daring to look up. You didn't feel like you had the need to lie to him about how you were feeling

"Miserable." You inhaled sharply. "what about you?"

"Me too." Pedri mumbled. The next few minutes felt like a blur, blurry images of Pedri pushing up your dress and him taking off his pants. He gave you one confirimimg look to which you only nodded. There was that one familiar feeling again, of him being inside you. However nothing about this felt romantic now, you didn't even enjoy it.

You hated the fact that it was your fault, it was yours, and his, it was his fault to let you go and it was yours to think that you were holding him back. Why couldn't have you just kept quiet?

Pedri thrusted into you harder.

His mind running miles per hour as he's only thinking of the things he could have changed. If he wouldn't have let you go, he wouldn't be here, in the dark, fucking you. He would have been sitting upstairs, his right arm wrapped around your shoulder, talking with his friends and from time to time he would have kissed you, he would have reminded himself that he was the luckiest man alive.

He thursted into you rougher.

Your moans silenced some of your thoughts as tears started building up in your eyes. Not just from the plessure but because of all the emotions you were feeling. If you thought about it that way, it wasn't your fault, you were just a teenage girl, going through puberty.

He thursted into you faster.

He hated to see you cry, he hated that no matter what he would have said in that moment wouldn't have made anything better. He hated that times have changed.

But in the end he realized it wasn't really his fault, he was just a teenage boy going through puberty.

You two finished at the same time.

Pedri pulled out immediately, quickly standing up and pulling his pants over his dick.

You also started to get dressed, the tears streaming down your cheeks didn't stop, however it hurt Pedri to look at you. He stood in one spot for a few seconds to check if you would be alright. After you gave him a small nod that you would be alright, the midfield was hurrying up the stairs already.

He couldn't stand the thought of you seeing him cry, so while he walked upstairs the music got louder and louder. He hurried to the entrance and then opened the door immediately, he did a sprint to his car and then sat behind the wheel. "I'm stupid, I am so stupid" He cried as tears were swelling uo in his eyes and he hit his head against the steering wheel.

Meanwhile you pulled up your kees to your body and cried into them, your head was lowered and tears dropping onto your dress.

So if you would have told any of the two of you five years ago, that you two would be crying after interacting with eachother for the first time in 4 years, the two of you would have burst out laughing.

But you both raised your head at one thought.

"We were just teenagers, it wouldn't have worked out anyways."

191 notes · View notes

willalove75 · 8 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Alcina x stone top reader, like Alcina try to take control like she usually does but ultimately fails and get ✨DEMOSLISHED✨ on her desk.

I hope you see this, I thank you in advance :)

Hiya!! Thanks so much for the request!

My brain wasn't able to come up with a scenario where I was able to make this work with her canon measurements so I'm making this more of an AU where she's human sized. I hope you enjoy!

Tags: dom!reader, smut, degradation, praise

Warnings: 18+ Only. Minors DNI

It was a cold night in the castle and you were all alone in bed. Your wife, Alcina, was still working and when you glanced over at the clock you realized it was almost midnight. She went back into her office after dinner and you haven't seen her since.

The financial quarter was nearing its end and she had a ton of paperwork to finish for the vineyard but lately she's been working herself to the bone. For over a week she's been coming to bed after you've fallen asleep and is gone by the time you wake up. You've tried to talk to her about going easy on herself but she's as stubborn as they come and doesn't give your suggestion a second thought.

Alcina has been stressed in a multitude of ways and neither of you have been able to relieve your sexual frustration in nearly two weeks. Tonight you've reached your breaking point. She promised she would be in bed early, that she would reward you for being so patient. Since she still hasn't shown, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

You throw a sweatshirt on over your pajamas and cross the vast castle to the wing where her study resides. The stone floors are cold beneath your feet and it's so silent you think you can hear your heartbeat ricochet off of the walls. You've never gotten used to the castle at night. It's always been eerie. Even when you were first hired as the groundskeeper, being here at night freaked you out a little. Nevertheless, you trek on.

Once you reach her study door you give the thick wood a few light knocks, not wanting to startle your wife inside.

"Come in." A tired and frustrated voice replies.

When you walk in you see Alcina sitting behind her desk with her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Hey." You say as you walk in.

"Draga, what are you-" She glances over at the clock and her face falls. "Oh, shit." She mutters. "I'm so sorry draga mea, I didn't realize how late it was."

Alcina removes her glasses as she stands and walks around to the front of her desk where she meets you. You rest your hands on her hips and she drapes her arms around you neck. She gazes into your eyes before leaning in and pressing her lips against yours.

"You said you would be in bed two hours ago, my love." You whisper against her lips before moving to press light kisses into her neck.

"I know draga, I'm sorry." She says, leaning her head to the side to give you more access.

Your start to kiss her neck a little harder and nip at her skin causing her to sharply inhale.

"Come to bed."

"I can't, I still have-" her breath hitches in her throat when you suck on her pulse point. "I still have some paperwork to" her breath hitches again. "to finish."

"It can wait."

"I can't-" her words are cut off by a groan when you slip your knee between her legs and press up into her.

With your hands firmly grasping her hips, you rock them against you as you continue to mark up her neck. Alcina bits her lip to keep her moans at bay and grabs at the back of your head. With every rock of her hips against your leg you can feel her wetness against your skin grow through her lace panties.

"Oh, draga." She moans into your shoulder.

"You're so wet." You mumble into her soft skin. "Let me have you, iubirea mea."

A low growl rumbles in her throat and you can feel its vibration against your lips. When you first started working at the castle you barely spoke Romanian but Alcina taught you some words. Speaking to her in her native language is one of your secret weapons since you know how much it gets her going.

You press up into her a little harder and a moan slips from her lips. Alcina pushes you down into the chair behind you and straddles your lap. She grabs the hair on the back of your head and pulls at it, kissing you hard.

As someone who considers themselves a stone top, it's not uncommon for you and Alcina to fight for dominance in bed. Every so often you'll relent and let her take over or she'll win the battle you two playfully fight. Tonight however, she broke her promise and you're not letting her off the hook that easily.

Grabbing her thighs you stand up from the chair and lift her onto her desk. Some of the papers littering the surface fall to the floor along with a few other items cluttering it. The two of you are kissing hard, both of you trying to take control as your tongues eagerly explore each others mouths. More things fall to the round as you quickly pull up her dress and her hands grab at your sweatshirt. You slide your hands to her hips and pull her to the edge of the desk, pressing your leg between hers and you grind into her. A moan rings out into the night air and she manages to pull your sweatshirt off.

Her hands go straight for your pajama bottoms and you grab her wrists. Alcina is strong, you'd never know how strong she was just by looking at her but looks are certainly deceiving. Luckily your work as groundskeeper has increased your strength as well so it's an even match. Somehow you manage to pin her arms behind her back and she grunts in protest but never breaks the kiss.

Holding her wrists behind her back with one hand, your free hand dives between her legs. The pads of your fingers immediately find her clit over her underwear and you waste no time rubbing tight, quick circles around it. Alcina throws her head back and cries out with a growl. She pulls against your hand restraining her wrists and tries to break free.

As she wiggles in your grip she slides off the desk landing on her feet. Just as she manages to break out of your hold you manage to keep one of her wrists pinned and your other hand grabs the other. She fights for control and you're able to turn her around and bend her over her desk. You pin her wrists behind her back again and lean over her.

"Stay down." You growl into her ear.

A whimper escapes from her lips and you nibble she shell of her ear. When you pull back she tries to fight against you and you give her a hard smack on the ass. She cries out in pleasure and you massage her reddening skin. You give her one more smack when she pulls against your grip on her hands and she cries out again.

Her legs begin shaking with need and she starts to whimper. She stops fighting back and you grab the hair on the back of her head and lean over her again.

"Good girl. Don't make me keep punishing you."

Alcina groans and you sit back up after placing a kiss on her neck. Holding her wrists with one hand, you use the other to pull her wet thong down her long legs. You tap at her legs so she steps out of them and you feel how drenched they are in your hands.

"So wet for me already baby? I barely even touched you." You caress her slit and graze over her clit, causing her to whine. "You wouldn't be so desperate for me if you worked so much, you know?" You tease.

You can tell you hit a nerve with that one because she growls and fights against your grip once more. With another smack to her ass she settles down.

"I'm just going to have to tie your wrists together, aren't I?" You ask.

Before she can respond you start to tie her wrists together with her wet, lacy thong.

"Not perfect, but it'll have to do." You say after you finish. "You know, I was hoping to ravish you in our bedroom, but you're so stubborn I guess I'm just going to have to do it here."

Alcina opens her mouth to quip back but the only thing that leaves her lips is a whine as your fingers explore her dripping slit.

"Fuck you're so wet." You say, coating your fingers in her arousal.

You begin to circle her clit and she starts to moan.

"You like that baby? You like when I play with your clit like that?"

"Uh-huh." She wines.

"Use your words." You say, slowing your ministrations.

Alcina whines in protest and cries out.

"Yes! I love it. I love when you play with my clit."

"Good girl."

After circling over her clit a few times you easily slide two fingers deep into Alcina's soaked pussy. Her moans echo through her study and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

You push your fingers deep inside her dripping cunt until you bottom her out and pull them away. After repeating that a few times you start to curl them into her walls and Alcina's cries grow louder.

"Yes, let me hear you my love." You say as you pick up the pace.

"Oh fuck!" She moans.

"You like when I overpower you? When I treat you like my little fucktoy?"

"Mhm."

You smack her ass again and she yelps.

"Use your words." You say as you thrust back into her.

"Yes! Fuck. I love it baby."

As you fuck her with your fingers her legs begin to shake and her walls start to clench down around you. You bring her right to the edge and pull your fingers out of her, leaving her pussy to clench around nothing. Alcina cries out in protest.

"What's the matter, love? You didn't think you could break your promise and not go unpunished, did you?"

"Fuck you." She spits.

Alcina hates being edged, it's not that it makes her uncomfortable, she just doesn't like being teased. You've only ever done it one other time and you ended up paying for it by being completely tied down to her bed and edged for hours at her mercy until she made you cum so hard you blacked out for a minute. She told you she was going to "fuck the brat right out of you" and she sure as hell did that night. But you know if you were the one to break a promise like this you'd be punished so it's only fair that she receives a punishment as well.

"Ah, being bratty now, are we?" You say as you tease her clit. "A very attractive woman once told me that the best way to deal with a brat is to fuck it right out of them. I wonder how well that works."

"Don't you dar- fuck!" Her words are cut off with a cry when you shove your fingers back into her.

The only other sounds that came from her lips were cries and moans of pleasure as you fucked her relentlessly. Bringing her to the edge of release before taking it away over and over again. Each time you were met with a cry of protest. Her whimpers were the sweetest sounds you've ever heard. Especially when they were accompanied by the wet noises her pussy made when you thrusted in and out of her.

Her arousal was dripping down your wrist and down her trembling legs. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her flushed face and chest were laying flat against the cool mahogany of her desk. You brought her to the edge and back down again when you heard the tiniest beg slip from her lips.

"What was that?" You ask but she only whimpers in response. "Was that a beg I heard?"

Alcina doesn't respond so you bring her to the edge again and just as she's about to tip over, just when she thinks you'll finally let her cum, you pull your fingers out.

"Fuck! Please!"

"Ah, there it is. Please what? Tell me what you want baby." You say, pushing back into her.

"Please fuck me, make me cum. Please!" Tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes as she desperately whimpers. You take a second to look at the goddess laying beneath you and your mouth waters.

"Fuck, look at you. So wet, begging for me to fuck you senseless, at my mercy."

"Please." She whimpers.

You've never been able to reduce Alcina to such a begging, wet mess before but you absolutely love it. And by the sound of the moan she releases and the way her walls grip your fingers when you slide them back in, you can tell she loves it too.

"More, please, fuck me. I need more." She moans.

Pumping your fingers in and out of her, you bring her to the edge once more. Just before she's about to explode on your hand you pull out entirely again and she cries out. Before she can say anything you shove three fingers into her and her body jerks as she screams in pleasure. After giving her a few seconds to stretch around your fingers you begin to finger fuck her harder than you think you ever have before.

"You've been such a good girl for me. Even though you broke your promise, I think you've more than made up for it. Let me take care of you baby." You whisper to her as you drive her into oblivion.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Yes, fuck me, make me cum! Please baby harder!" She cries.

You slam your fingers deep into her and drive short, hard thrusts into her g spot as you curl your fingers in a rhythm. Her legs start to shake and you feel her walls clench down around you hard before you feel them relax. Alcina screams out into the night and her body trembles as her orgasm hits her like a freight train. You keep up your pace through her orgasm and as soon as she's done a second one builds and hits her. As you guide her down she trembles beneath you. You untie her wrists with one hand and once you feel the pulsing of her walls slow down, you pull your fingers out.

Laying in front of you, your wife is a blissed out, trembling mess. Your hand and her legs are glistening with her cum, she whimpers every time an aftershock runs up her spine and her legs can barely hold her up.

Alcina looks up at you as she tries to catch her breath and you help her stand. Her legs are unsteady so you guide her to the chair and sit her down. Kneeling in front of her, you pull her hips to the edge and spread her legs. She goes to protest and you sit up and kiss her.

"Shh, let me clean you up. I'll be gentle, I promise. Okay?"

She nods her head and you kiss her once more before positioning yourself between her legs. Looking up, you see her half-hooded, lust-filled eyes staring down at you and you lick up her soaked pussy as you stare into them. Her eyes roll back and she tosses her head back against the chair.

As you clean up her mess you can feel her pussy pulsating against your tongue. Her clit is swollen and you circle the soft flesh with your tongue, making Alcina whine. Even though you weren't trying to make her cum again, you can feel her orgasm build with each lick and suck of her pussy. You let it slowly build, giving her clit a gentle suck and pull every so often, before her hand is gripping the back of your head. Slipping your tongue between her folds, you keep eating her out until she cums into your mouth with a soft cry.

You make sure you clean up every drop before slowing your movements and pulling away from her. Looking up, you see Alcina resting her head against the back of the chair with her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling as basks in the afterglow of being fucked senseless. After you wipe your mouth, you sit up and cup her face and her eyes meet yours.

Alcina leans down and captures your lips in a deep kiss. When your lips part she rests her head against yours and closes her eyes. You can tell she's rightfully exhausted. From both over-working herself to being fucked so hard. Pulling her into you, you have her wrap her legs around your waist and her arms around your neck and you pick her up. After you adjust your grip on her, you're surprised when she nuzzles her head into your neck instead of protesting. She's never let you do this before without putting up a fight so she must be either exhausted or in desperate need of being taken care of, or both.

You carry Alcina into your shared bedroom and sit her down on the counter in the bathroom. After wetting a washcloth and pouring some soap on it, you clean between her legs as well as your face and hands. Wrapping herself around you again, you carry her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed. She slips out of her dress after you unzip it and after she removes her bra you help her to pull a nightgown over her head. Pulling the covers back, she curls up in bed and you follow suit. Covering the both of you with the duvet, you lean over to shut off the light.

Alcina curls into you, burying her face in your neck and wrapping her arms around you.

"Thank you." She says as she places chaste kisses on your neck.

"Of course my love, I hope I was able to help you relax."

"You did draga mea, more than I can explain. Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too baby."

After a soft kiss goodnight, the two of you drift off into a peaceful, restful sleep.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #alcina dimitrescu #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescuxreader #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 village #re8

387 notes · View notes